


The Feeling

by RubyGlass



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Age Difference, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Awkward Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Carla is alive, College Student Eren Yeager, Depressed Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Depression, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, F/M, Hero Worship, Levi/Eren Yeager-centric, M/M, Minor Erwin Smith/Mike Zacharias, Minor Levi/Petra Ral, Minor Marco Bott/Jean Kirstein, Minor Moblit Berner/Hange Zoë, Professor!Levi, Slow Burn, So much angst, Soulmates, riren - Freeform, teacher student
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-05-17 00:18:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 78,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5846590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubyGlass/pseuds/RubyGlass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The chances of having a soulmate are one in three.<br/>The probability of having a soulmate and not finding them before your twenty-fifth birthday is nearly zero. Not impossible, but it might as well be considering how often it happens."</p><p>Levi gave up on ever getting a soulmate years ago. It's not like he even wanted one in the first place.<br/>But when Levi's world starts crumbling around him, maybe a soulmate is just what he needs after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Start

**Author's Note:**

> It came to me in a dream...No, but seriously. I had this idea for a while. I wasn't sure how to write it, and now I think I've figured it out. I put this on the back burner while I got my other fic off the ground (its called Sorry, check it out if you have the time!). I've changed so many things about this chapter, and the plot outline since I first had this idea. This chapter has been written and re-written over and over again. But I think I've gotten it to a place I'm comfortable with. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! Thanks for reading!

The chances of having a soulmate are one in three.  


The probability of having a soulmate and not finding them before your twenty-fifth birthday is nearly zero. Not impossible, but it might as well be considering how often it actually happens.  


There isn’t much known for certain about what makes this soulmate bullshit work, or what determines if you even have one to begin with. Of course there are a number of theories floating around out there; too many to count. Though it is pretty much accepted, by idiots who give a shit about these sorts of things, that a lot of it has to do with genetics. Mostly because your chances of having someone out there waiting for you are astronomically higher if your parents were soulmates. Which isn't to say that genetics is only factor that goes into it. Plenty of people have soulmates, even if none of their other family does. To reiterate: no one really has any fucking clue about any of this and anyone saying otherwise is lying to themselves.  


Hanji, of course, has her own theories. Having studied this for so long it would be a little weird if she didn't. The amount of time she's wasted researching this shit doesn't make her crackpot theories any less ridiculous, though. She's convinced herself soulmates are some sort of evolutionary leap the human brain made after population numbers dropped dangerously low a couple hundred years ago. People had stopped reproducing, choosing instead to focus on their own lives rather than settling down and growing the population. I suppose I can sympathize with that, I myself have destroyed more than a handful of relationships because I was too caught up in my own world to notice theirs. Of course her little theory doesn't explain why there are nearly as many gay matches as there are straight ones, but Hanji has never been one to be dissuaded by logic.  


While we don't know why it started, or how it works, there are a few things we do know for sure. For instance, we know that the way one identifies their soulmate varies. You get what scientists coined as the "Feeling". Stupid names aside, the Feeling could be anything from hearing music at first sight, to seeing fireworks at first touch. Erwin says it was like he and Mike had been struck by lightning when they first shook hands. He was the only one of our sad little group with a soulmate, they met a month after he turned 25 on his first day in his new job, when Mike introduced himself. They shook hands and then bam: Soulmates. Stuck together for the rest of their lives, bound to each other whether they wanted it or not.  


Hanji never found one, and at the age of thirty-one she isn’t ever likely to. It was a fact that depressed her sometimes. Surprisingly, that was our biggest difference. Growing up, Hanji had desperately wanted a soulmate. She used to ramble incessantly about what she thought her soulmate would be like, and which Feeling she would have to know it was him, or maybe it was a her. You never knew with these kinds of things, she had reasoned. I was the one who consoled her on her twenty-fifth birthday while she wailed about being alone forever, never getting to experience that kind of bond. It was the next year that she met Moblit. I've argued since that their relationship is more stable than some soulmates I've met, but she just brushes each accusation off with a sly giggle and a wink.  


The entire concept has always seemed overrated to me, so it wasn’t like I was that upset when my twenty-fifth birthday came and went without finding “the one”. I never liked the idea of something like that being decided for me, being out of my control. Hanji told me I was only lying to myself. However, I’ve always maintained that Hanji is insane. Besides, it wasn’t like my parents were soulmates, chances were always high that I would never get one anyways. It wasn’t that big of a deal.  


Life went on.  


“Merry Christmas!” Hanji didn’t even knock before bursting through the front door to my apartment. “And happy birthday!” She added, wrapping me up in her boa-like grip.  


“Merry Christmas, Four-eyes.” I responded plainly, trying desperately to peel her arms away and free myself.  


“Hanji, Love, you know he hate's when you do that. He’s just going to kick you again.” Moblit admonished his wife as he set the large, uncooked turkey they'd brought on the counter.  


Hanji only squeezed tighter, “Oh hush, we’ve been best friends for twenty-five years. He’d better be used to this by now."  


“Is best friends really the word you would use?” I questioned with a grunt as my air supply was constricted further and I struggled harder against death grip. “Moblit.” I greeted him, “A little help?”  


“Come on, Hanji. Leave him be. We have a turkey to prepare.” He called, already opening one of my wine bottles and pouring himself a glass. I've always wondered how he puts up with her as well as he does, the man has the patience of a saint. All the alcohol in the world wouldn’t be enough for me to deal with Hanji for more than a few hours at a time.  


Luckily his words work this time and she reluctantly releases me so I can grab the large glass or wine Moblit so kindly poured for me.  


Every year we celebrate Christmas like this: Hanji and Moblit come over around noon to help prepare dinner and empty my liquor cabinet of another couple bottles of wine. Well, Moblit helps with dinner while Hanji mostly just takes care of the liquor cabinet. Around four Erwin and Mike show up with the kids after a long day with the in-laws, and dinner is served at five. We exchange gifts and after that Mike takes the kids home for an early bedtime. Then, my birthday celebration begins and the rest of us get ass-backwards drunk.  


“Is Petra coming?” Hanji asks across the counter, elbow deep in the ass of the dead turkey they'd brought with them. I grimaced, and not because stuffing the turkey was always my least favorite part of the dinner preparations. 

“I invited her.” Hanji exchanged a quick glance with Moblit. 

“Levi, it’s been almost a year since she’s come to a family event.” I shrugged. “Is everything okay with you two?” I shrugged again and they exchanged another glance.  


“Want to talk about it.” I stared at her blankly, knowing she already knew the answer to such stupid question.  


“Right, right. I forgot. You don't talk about _feelings_ ” She withdrew her arm from the turkey and waved it in my face, trying to change the subject. “Look, Levi! Turkey ass-juice!” I rolled my eyes, refusing to let myself get baited by her hand dripping turkey juice onto my clean counter-top and moved to prepare the potatoes. I didn’t want to talk about Petra tonight. Tonight was supposed to be a good night, and talking about Petra would only put me in a foul mood. 

We’d been together for nearly five years, and the honeymoon phase was long over. The first two years had been amazing, back when we had been something resembling happy. But for a while now it was like all we did was fight, it never seems to end. Every little thing would turn into a knock-out, drag-out battle to the bitter end, with neither of us willing to compromise. The fights could last for days, or weeks. The current one had been ongoing now for over a month now on and off. Things would be quiet for days, and then tensions would flair and we'd be back to yelling and screaming at each other for hours on end. It was the worst fight we'd had in the years we'd been together, hell I hadn't even spoken to Petra in nearly a week now with no end to the radio-silence in sight. It was one of those times where I wondered if this was all worth it or if I should just let he go and be done with it.  


I shook my head suddenly, and violently, as if the motion would throw the negative thoughts out of my mind and across the room. No. Tonight was supposed to be happy, it wasn’t the time to be thinking of my dying relationship.  


“So how is work?” Hanji pushed forward, unaware of where my mind had drifted. She'd always been the most social one in our little group and could never let silence go unchecked for long.  


“Fine.” I replied. It was not.  


“When do you go back?”  


“The second.” But she knew that already.  


“How many classes do you have this year?” Moblit joined in.  


“Just three.”  


“Are they cutting your hours back?” She sounded worried.  


“No, Glasses. They’re just giving me some time to work on my book.” I clarified with a huff.  


“Oh, isn’t that sweet of them!” I threw the potatoes into the pot and moved to start prepping the vegetables.  


"Mhm" I answered with a noncommittal hum. 

“How is the book coming along, then?” Moblit again.  


“It’s coming.”  


“Oh come on, Professor Shrimp. You can do better than that!” Hanji had moved on to cutting apples for her pie. I shot her a glare, I hated her stupid nicknames. They were all unoriginal, relying too heavily on my short stature. She just smiled through my glare, though. Shitty Hanji.  


“It’s fine. A bit slow.”  


“I’m sure it will be the best book ever written about…” she paused to contemplate and I let loose a frustrated sigh. It's not like I've spent nearly ten years devoted to studying this or anything.  


“The Colonial Wars.” I provided the answer, a tad exasperated.  


“Of course! I was just about to say that! You didn’t have to cut me off” She waved her knife in my general direction. I rolled my eyes.  


Dinner didn’t take long to prep, we were done and settled around the kitchen island into our second bottle of wine well before the rest of the group made an appearance. Unlike Hanji they knocked, alerting us to their arrival. Before I could move to let them in Hanji was already bounding across my hardwood to swing the door open. I cringed as it bounced violently off its stopper, hoping she hadn’t used enough force to actually damage my wall.  


"My babies!" Hanji squealed in delight and bent down to wrap up Farlan and Isabel in a bear hug, lifting them both off the floor and cooing what sounded like nonsense as they giggled. 

“Merry Christmas. How are Katherine and John?” I asked over the noise.  


“Doing well, thanks. They send their love and a 'Merry Christmas', and a 'happy birthday' for Levi.” Erwin answered as he pushed past Hanji, now swinging the kids around in her arms, to set down a bag of gifts next to the tree.  


“Uncle Levi! Uncle Levi! Guess what Santa brought me!” finally free of Hanji, the kids dispersed: Izzy making a bee line to attach herself to my hip. I force her off and knelt down to meet her on her eye-level.  


“Are we forgetting something, Izzy?” Mike prompts from the kitchen.  


“OH! Merry Christmas and happy birthday Uncle Levi” she leant in and planted a sloppy 4-year-old sized kiss on my cheek. I ruffled her hair, a soft smirk playing on my lips. As cold-hearted as some consider me, I've always had a warm spot for these brats.  


“Thank you, Iz. Merry Christmas. Now, what did Santa bring you this year?” I tugged at one of her red pigtails, earning a playful slap and a toothy grin.  


“Noooo! You have to guess!” she demanded. And I hummed to myself, pretending to think hard and long on my answer.  


“Was it a pony?”  


“Hey, don’t give her any ideas.” Erwin shouted from where he was setting out the presents they brought.  


“No!” she was trying her best to be serious, but could barely contain her giggles.  


“I don’t know, Izzy. I give up. Tell me.”  


“A bice-sickle” she exclaimed, practically jumping into the with excitement.  


“A bike? Don’t you think you’re a bit young for that?” I asked, making eye contact with Erwin across the room, who just shrugged and mouthed “training wheels”.  


“Farlan got one last year" she pointed out, rather logically for a four year old, "and I'm a big girl. I can do whatever Farlan can!” She added argumentatively.  


“No you can’t, you're still a baby” Her brother yelled at her from the kitchen. She just stuck her tongue out at him and blew a raspberry. Gross.  


“Hey!” I scolded, wiping a bead of spit from my arm, and she giggled. From anyone else such a reaction would have been unimaginable, it's not like I have a reputation for being lenient or understanding. But for whatever reason, I can't bring myself to do much more than spoil these brats.  


“So how old are you now, Uncle Levi?” She changed the subject, likely trying to avoid harsher punishment, and I plucked her up to headed towards the kitchen where everyone was already congregated.  


“No, you have to guess.” I tried to ignore the fact that I was now mocking a four-year-old who was now groaning dramatically.  


“Probably about a hundred.” Farlan smirked up at me from his seat in the bar-stool at the counter. The comment earned him a playful smack in the back of the head.  


“Watch it.” I warned, but the smirk remained.  


“I don’t knoooow” she whined. Where this girl got her flair for the dramatic from was a mystery. Certainly not from her fathers.  


“Just teellllllll her shortstack!” Oh right. I rolled my eyes at Hanji across the counter.  


“I turn thirty today.”  


“That _is_ basically a hundred” Another playful smack to the back of Farlan’s head had him laughing.  


“It’s younger than your parents.” I retorted. And now I was fighting with a six-year-old? How mature of me.  


“Like I said. Really old.” Now Mike was whacking him in the back of his head, which only led to even more laughter.  


“Where’s your soulmate, Uncle Levi?" Even knowing she's only talking about Petra didn't make it sting any less. Oh darling, adorable Isabel. She always knew which buttons to push to make your heart ache.  


“Izzy, that’s rude.” Mike scolded her from his spot leaning against the counter. “Erwin, tell your daughter she’s being rude.”  


“Why is she my daughter whenever she's being rude" Erwin quips from where he's paused arranging the gifts, but Mike didn't have an answer. "Isabel, you don’t just ask people questions like that. You know not everyone has a soulmate. You can hurt people’s feelings that way. Petra is Levi's girlfriend, we've talked about this.”  


“Sorry, Uncle Levi.” At least she looked upset with herself.  


“It’s alright, kid. I know you meant well.” I ruffled her hair a bit more, but did't answer her original question.  


“Turkey’s done. Dinner's in ten!” Hanji hollered as she shut the oven door.  


“Everyone out of the kitchen, please?” Moblit requested, trying to maneuver the turkey towards a countertop. I found a third bottle of wine and opened it, pouring a glass for each of the adults. I had a feeling Mike and Erwin would need it after a day with the Zacharius family, and I could really use another glass myself.  


Dinner was delicious, as always. And once the plates were cleared and the leftovers boxed up it was on to the gifts. No one needed to tell the kids twice and they were bounding from the dining table to search through the small pile of presents for the ones with their names affixed the moment the kitchen was clean. 

“Dad! Dad! Look!” Farlan exclaimed, having already torn into his first gift. He held up a video game, one that Erwin had recommended. Apparently he had been spot on.  


“What do you say to your uncle?” the blonde prompted.  


“Thank you thank you thank you!” Farlan cried as he charged, coiling himself around my legs, which only caused me to shake a bit where I stood. I barely got a "your welcome" out before he released his hold and returned to tear into another gift. Isabel was hugging Hanji and Moblit much more calmly, thanking them for the toy pony they'd given her. I had gotten her a toy doctor’s kit, which earned me a running leap-hug. I chuckled quietly as I caught her. It was nights like this always made me forget about the bad in my life. But thoughts of Petra were never far from my mind, and I made sure to keep my wine glass full to compensate.  


Erwin, Mike, and the kids got me a new electric kettle, to replace the ancient one that was beginning to rust. Hanji, and only Hanji as Moblit clarified, got me a copy of the Kama Sutra. I glared at her, reminding her in a harsh whisper that there were children present. She just cackled. I clicked my tongue, forming a loud, annoyed "tch" sound. Typical shitty Glasses. Moblit's gift was a much more appropriate set of black whiskey stones.  


It was nearly seven by the time all the gifts were open and the kids had already started to nod off. They had been up since six am, too anxious to sleep. I helped him carry them to the car as Erwin loaded their haul into the trunk before leaving Mike and Erwin to their goodbyes.  


Inside, Hanji and Moblit were already raiding my liquor cabinet. Scratch that, Hanji was raiding my liquor cabinet while Moblit tried desperately to stop her. I called him off, telling him to let her have her fun. We hadn't drank nearly enough yet to call this birthday a success.  


Shots were poured, cake was had, fond stories of the old days back in Trost exchanged. Hanji was passed out by eleven, strewn across Moblit’s lap, and Erwin was barely keeping his head upright in the chair. We’d become lame in our old age, I realized from my spot on the floor. There was once a time where we wouldn’t even leave the house for the bars until eleven. I grabbed my extra blankets and threw them to the boys, letting them know I was turning in. Moblit grunted in recognition, pulling the blanket up around his wife, as Erwin struggled to get comfortable. His back would kill him tomorrow; I was sure of it.  


I shut the door to my bedroom slowly, so not to wake Hanji. A rudely awakened Hanji was nigh unbearable, and I really didn’t need that at the moment. I was much too drunk to deal with her whining. Slowly I climbed into bed, trying to ignore the fact that Petra’s spot was cold, her indent long gone. I tried to remember the last time she had slept here. Had it been weeks? Months? I think it had been the last day before the fall semester had started, back in August. That was the last time I could remember, at least. I heaved a sigh, throwing my arm across my eyes. Usually the amount of alcohol I had flowing through my system was enough to keep the negative thoughts at bay, but it wasn't having the intended effect so far. Instead I tried hard not to think about it.  


It didn't work. 

The relationship was dead, had been for a while. I knew it, she knew it too. Hell, even Hanji and Moblit seemed to notice. Apparently neither of us had the stones to end it though. Too scared to be alone, maybe? I rolled over, staring into the dark. Funny thing was I sure felt alone. For all my big talk, it was times like this that made me wish I had a soulmate. At least that wouldn't be as complicated, or hard. Having a soulmate meant having someone who would always love you as much as you loved them. 

I should end it. I really should. That way we could move on, stop the endless bullshit and actually try to be happy. I felt a pit form in my stomach as I thought of leaving her. We’d been together for a long time; I almost couldn’t remember how to be apart from her. She was so familiar to me now, all her little personality quirks and habits. Like the way she played with her hair when she was nervous, or how her nose scrunched up when she was thinking too hard.  


This was the alcohol talking. I shouldn’t be thinking about this. Why am I thinking about this? Why does life have to be so hard? Why does my face feel wet? Are those tears? I’m not crying, am I?  


I was.  


That was the tenth night in a row I fell asleep with tears in my eyes.

###### 

New Year’s Eve was not like Christmas: it changed every year. Some years were spent at Erwin and Mike’s with the whole gang, some years I would go out with Petra alone, and some years I spent a quiet night in watching the kids. This year was going to be one of those. 

I had promised Erwin and Mike months ago that I would babysit while they attended a party hosted by their company. They had technically asked me and Petra to do it together, but I still hadn’t heard from her since before Christmas, and didn’t foresee her making an appearance. 

She didn’t show. 

So it was just me, Farlan, Isabel, and the expensive bottle of scotch Erwin thought he'd hidden well. Quite a way to bring in the new year, if you asked me. 

“Uncle Levi, is it almost time?” It was approaching ten and each of Isabel’s yawns was coming faster than the one before. It's possible that I should have forced her to take that nap earlier. 

“Two more hours left.” I informed her, and she groaned, flopping dramatically on the couch face first. 

“Mph wanmph mowph.” _I wanna now_ , I think. I’m still not completely fluent in muffled four-year old. 

“Why don’t you pick another movie? Farlan got to choose the last one.” He had chosen some animated movie about dinosaurs, I honestly hadn’t paid much attention to it. 

“Moff.” _No_. I rolled my eyes, standing from the couch to refill my glass. 

“Well then I guess it’s bedtime.” I called over my shoulder. 

“NO!” She shot off the couch to glare at me as best a preschooler could. It was kind of endearing, really. 

“Then pick a movie.” I instructed, to which she begrudgingly acquiesced; picked a princess movie, which truth be told was a massive step down from the dinosaurs. 

By the time the movie was over it was 11:50; ten minutes left to go. I glanced down next to me, Isabel had curled up into my side and fallen asleep. I almost didn’t have the heart to wake her, she looked like such an angel. Luckily, I didn’t have to. Farlan took care of that for me. 

"Izzy! It’s time!” he screamed in her ear, causing her to jolt awake. Tears started to well, another thing she and Hanji have in common – they hate being woken up. 

“Farlan!" I yelled at him, trying to reign in the urge to curse at him "Go sit in time-out. You know the drill.” I directed, my voice level and cold. He sulked off, knowing better than to test me. Spoiled or not, they knew when I meant business. It took five minutes for Izzy to finally calm down and I let Farlan out of time-out with two minutes to spare on the condition he apologize to his sister. He was promptly rewarded with a slobbery kiss on the cheek causing him to reel in disgust. I stifled a chuckle as he desperately wiped her saliva off his skin and turned on the countdown. 

10... 9... 8... 7... 6... 5... 4... 3... 2... 1. 

“Happy New Year’s!” The kids screamed in unison. I pecked each on the top of the heads, lifting one in each arm. 

“Bed time!” I proclaimed. Those were my marching orders. Not one minute past midnight, Erwin had been more than clear. 

“Come on Uncle Levi!” Farlan whined, wriggling in my grasp. “Just five more minutes!” I shook my head. 

“No chance.” 

It was another twenty minutes before I could get them settled into their beds and I could resume my spot on the couch: feet up on the coffee table, full glass of scotch swirling in my hand. I clicked through the channels, trying less to find something interesting to watch than I was trying not to think about how classes started up a week from tomorrow. It was my third year as a professor at Sina State University and it still felt weird every time I went back. Sometimes I still felt like a student, even though I hadn't ever actually been one there. I had been a student for nearly a quarter of a century, and a student at or above university level for just shy of a decade. The transition from the taught to the teacher was something I was still getting used to, and although my two weeks off hadn't been nearly adequate it was long enough to allow those creeping anxieties back in. 

My phone vibrated across the coffee table in front of me, pulling my attention away from work. I sighed, knowing exactly who it would be and not really knowing which was preferable: Dealing with her, or thinking about my miserable life. But I knew which would make my life more miserable if I didn't give it the attention it demanded at this moment. 

“Happy New Year’s, Dr. Pint-Size!” I rolled my eyes at her most recently preferred height-based nickname. 

“Happy New Year’s, Four-eyes.” She giggled. 

“How are my munchkins?” 

“Asleep, thankfully.” 

“Wonderful! How was your evening?” 

“We watched kid’s movies.” 

“So you had the time of your life, then?” I rolled my eyes again, standing from the couch. “So, what is your resolution this year, short stuff?” She prattled on, undisturbed by my silence and I could hear Moblit in the background begging her to hang up while she was driving. Sometimes I swear that man is the biggest masochist in Sina. 

“You know I don’t do those, they’re fucking pointless.” I poured myself another, probably over-sized, glass of Erwin's scotch. 

“Oh you’re no fun. Everyone has a New Year’s Resolution.” I could practically hear her pouting on the other end of the line. “Want to hear mine instead?” Sip. 

“Not really.” Sip. 

“I will finally figure out what links Soulmates together.” She proclaimed, the same thing she proclaimed last year, and the year before that. For ten years now Hanji has resolved she was finally going to figure out what links Soulmates together. For ten years Hanji hasn’t been able to keep her resolution. 

“Sure you are, shitty Glasses.” I sighed. Sip. 

“I mean it this time.” I gave a noncommittal hum and noticed my drink is empty again. That was fast. Maybe it hadn't been as over-sized as I'd previously thought, so I poured another to replace it. 

“You’re seriously no fun, Levi.” More pouting. I heard Moblit scream her name in the background and what sounded like a struggle. 

“Sorry, Levi. Hanji has to go. She almost killed us!” 

“It’s fine Moblit. I’ll talk to you guys later.” The call ended before I could hang up. I sighed, settling back down on the couch. Resolutions were pointless, no one ever kept them anyway and more broken promises were just what this world needed. 

Laying my feet up again, I tried to keep focused on what was on the TV but it was only five minutes before I felt myself drifting asleep. Fuck it. Erwin and Mike would be home soon anyways, they’d wake me up when they got here.

###### 

First day back from winter break was always worse than the first day back from summer. After the three-month summer break most students were itching for something to do, to get back to their friends, to get back to campus. The one-month winter break was hardly long enough to start to feel relaxed. Everyone dragged their feet, nobody tried as hard to look nice, even the professors seemed like they would rather be curled up at home watching the latest episode of whatever reality show was popular these days. It didn’t help that winter was cold - bitterly cold - and this first day back was no exception. It had snowed over the weekend, and the temperature still hadn’t risen over freezing 

I hated the cold. And honestly the cold hated me right back. 

The first day of the 'spring' semester fell on a Wednesday, thanks to the godforsaken blizzard that had brought with it nearly a foot of asshole snow. And though the maintenance staff had done their best, it made the walk across campus from my office to the room where they had assigned my last class of the day all the more excruciating. Even with my heavy wool coat, gloves, scarf and hat I could feel the chill right down to my bones. 

Spring couldn’t be here soon enough. 

Finally, after a long, damp walk, I was at the large wooden doors to the building. I had never been to this particular building before; it was on the opposite side of campus from where I usually taught. I cursed the administration for making me trek the insufferable frozen wasteland outside as I tracked down the classroom. 

It didn't take long to find: being the last door down a long corridor on the first floor. I wasn’t the first to arrive, though. A handful of students were dispersed around the room talking quietly. There were still five minutes before I had to begin, so I left them to themselves and set up my computer. The projector whirred to life and my first slide appeared on the large white wall behind me, slowly blinking into existence. The room was a large lecture hall style: maximum capacity 150. Rows of seats rose high in front of me, each a little higher than the one before, alternating colors of puke green and dusty gray. Two huge chalkboards sat on mirroring walls facing the desks, separated by a white expanse where the projected image appeared. A small podium which housed the computer and projector controls also served as a lectern from where it sat directly underneath the giant white expanse. 

I didn’t usually teach in lecture halls; my classes were usually no bigger than forty students. They were usually upper level courses, taught in less intimidating rooms. I was a bit out of my comfort zone here. 

This semester they had stuck me with an introductory course, something about paying my dues as one of the newest members of the History Department Staff. The class was meant to provide a skeleton of the history and context that led to modern warfare. The content spanned two hundred years in fourteen weeks, much more than I was used to covering. Though it was a lot to cover the actual material itself was easy enough, being no more than an overview of the course and not requiring any degree of depth. But this wasn’t exactly my cup of tea, I preferred my military history much more medieval, which was going to make this course a particular challenge. Not to mention I preferred my students a bit more mature than the rowdy freshman I was sure I was going to be stuck with. 

More students had started to file in and take their seats. I watched them enter carefully, maintaining my default blank stare and crossing my arms tightly over my chest as I leaned back against the lectern. I checked my watch, only two minutes left until I could start. Most of the students that were slowly trickling through the door avoided eye contact, scurrying up the steps to find a seat as far away from the front as they could. It was only to be expected, I knew what the online reviews said about me: 

“Fair, but terrifying.” 

“Really knows his stuff, but don’t ever piss him off. He’s a scary dude.” 

“He was helpful, but totally unapproachable. Don't expect a good conversation in office hours. Stick to emails only if you can help it.” 

“I heard he made a student cry once.” 

It wasn’t like they were lying. Well, that last one was a bit of an exaggeration. I didn’t make the poor girl cry, but she had cried in my office. 

It's clear they’ve all seen the reviews, or heard the rumors, and I’m also sure they’re all sufficiently terrified of what this semester is going to be like with the "Demon Professor", as I've been so charmingly dubbed by a certain, more creative, group of history majors. There will be the rare few who never bothered to look me up, or haven't come across the rumors, that won’t know what they're getting into, and of course there are always the handful that won't heed to warnings, figuring there is no way I'm as bad as they say, and the even smaller number of masochists that will try to provoke me for the hell of it. Those are the students I hate the most: the ones that fancy themselves class clowns, and think they're being entertaining when all they're really doing is making my life harder than it ever needs to be, which just makes me want to make their lives miserable, which just ends in a net loss for everyone involved, including the innocent bystanders. With any luck there won't be any in this class, but given what kind of students take intro history lectures, I know luck isn't on my side. 

One more look at my watch and I see it’s already 1:01. Time to get started. 

“My name is Dr. Ackerman, and welcome to The History of Modern Warfare. I’m sure you’ve all already looked me up and seen the reviews so I won’t beat around the bush with this–" I’m stopped by the sight of a hand waving in the air. It’s towards the front of the room, smack in the center. It’s large, and tan, like the student it’s attached to. Not even 60 seconds into the first day and already the masochists are starting to show themselves. Well, if this idiot wants to poke the dragon, it's only his fault if he gets burned. I narrow my eyes at him, arm holding it's position straight up, not wavering in the slightest. 

He’s tall, which is obvious even though he's sitting slouched back against his seat with his legs lazily sprawled out in front of him. And his eyes; Dear god those eyes. From this distance, I can barely make them out, but they’re brilliantly blue. Or is that green? Maybe teal? Regardless, they're large, and gorgeous. And anxious. Oh that’s right, he wants me to call on him. I’d almost forgotten. I don’t normally get a raised hand this early into my spiel. I don’t normally get a hand raised ever, for that matter. 

“Yes? You in the red sweatshirt. What is it? And state your name. There is 80 of you in this class, I don't have time to memorize your ugly mugs.” Let’s get this over with so I can get through the syllabus. 

“Eren Jaeger, sir. Is it true what those reviews say about you? Did you really make a student cry?” I sigh heavily, I knew this was coming. It just doesn't normally come this early, or this direct. 

“I did not make a student cry.” I let my tongue click against the top row of my teeth, producing a crystal clear “tch” in annoyance. I was really trying to break that habit, too. Guess today wasn’t the day for that. “You'll have to decide if you believe those reviews after a semester with me. And I do know my material well, if that is what you were implying.” 

“No. I was more wondering about the reviews that likened you to a soulless monster, no disrespect.” Was this kid serious? It was already the first day and the 'class clowns' were already rearing their ugly heads. 

“Like I said, kid." I did my best not to growl the words and keep my voice level "That's up for you to figure out. Now, are you finished? Or can I get back to my lecture?” He pursed his lips together, which I took as a sign to move on. 

“If that's all the interruptions for now, let’s move on to the syllabus.” I flipped to the next slide. 

“Grade breakdown for the semester. The final is worth 50% of your grade. 25 for the midterm and your final paper each. That’s it. I won't keep track of whether you're here or not, but when you don't come to class and end up failing my exam, which _will_ happen if you chose not to come to lectures, don't expect any sympathy from me. I don't do extra credit, I don't to make up work. I don't do late work. No exceptions.” 

I moved to click onto the next slide, course policies. 

“I don’t do extensions; I don’t do excuses. Your work will be turned in on time or you will receive a zero. The door locks when the exam starts. Show up one second late and you will locked out of the exam room, and you will receive a zero. Clear?” I waited until a few of the braver ones nodded their head before moving on. 

Next slide: office hours. 

Next slide... 

Wait, was I on required materials already? Didn't that come after contact information? That’s odd; I could have sworn the slides were still on office hours? What had I been talking about again? I couldn’t remember. I stared at the computer screen for a moment, trying to gather myself. Maybe I should have skipped that last glass of scotch last night after all. 

“I’m sorry. I seem to have lost my train of thought. What was I saying?” I looked up at the students, they all looked just as confused as I felt. This had never happened to me before. 

“You were saying that we need to purchase the textbook from the bookstore.” It was that green-eyed brat who spoke up. Of course it was, brave little shit. 

“Yeah, of course.” I mumbled to myself. Had I said that? I didn’t remember saying that. Strange. I make a mental note to throw the bottle of scotch out when I get home, it’s clearly been tainted with something. 

I shake it off anyways and move on to the next slide. 

The class only lasts an hour, and at two I’m forced to let them go despite not having made it through the course overview. I’m off today, must be the frigid weather, or perhaps bad scotch. I stand at my podium, waiting for the last student to leave. It’s my last class of the day, which leaves me with nowhere better to be than standing in the front of this lecture hall waiting for some brave soul to approach and ask me a question on the first day. 

Unsurprisingly, none do and I sigh, a bit relieved; I just want to get home and go to bed. The room is nearly empty when I finally move to shut down the computer so I can leave. But when I return my eyes front they’re met with a sweatshirt clothed chest. I look up and lock eyes with the same brat from before. Even though he's someone who I've already classified as a dumbshit class-clown, someone that I would never expect to try to take me on one-on-one given they're foray is usually in front of large groups, where they are backed by encouragement from their classmates, I wouldn't expect anyone else to approach me like this on the first day. Already he’s spoken up twice, a first in my three years of teaching. Hanji chalks it up to the “bad vibes" I apparently give off. But I’ve said it before, and I'll repeat it until the day I die: Hanji is insane. But "bad vibes" or no, the class-clowning brat was standing before me, twisting in place and chewing the inside of his lip nervously before speaking up to explain his presence at my lectern. 

“Professor Ackerman, do you think that I could stop by your office hours later this week? I’d love to discuss the Colonial Wars with you sometime.” I was a bit taken aback, of all the things I could have imagined him saying, that was not one of the, Forget that he was supposed to be an airhead clown looking to test my limits, this was a class on modern warfare, how did he even know what my specialty was? The two subjects couldn't have been more diametrically opposed. “I’ve read your thesis. I found it super compelling.” He clarified, sensing my confusion, but his words weren't doing much to clear it. 

“You have read my thesis? You?” Incredulity dripped from my voice. I found that exceptionally hard to believe. This kid couldn’t be more than eighteen, what was he doing reading novel length, post-graduate theses, much less _my_ novel-length, post-graduate thesis. 

“Yeah, I’ve always found those wars fascinating and I came across it a few years ago.” He shrugged, as if it were totally normal for a teenage high-school student to read a complicated post-graduate work on the socio-political impact of wars that ended centuries ago. “I’m actually only in this class because I heard you were teaching it.” Oh really now? As weird as it was that he'd heard of me outside the rumors surrounding my teaching style, that was an astounding piece of information on its own. 

“You don’t say. That doesn’t happen to me often." I mused, second guessing my initial assumption that he was another run of the mill class clown. "Jaeger, was it?” he nodded. “Are you a history major Jaeger?” He shook his head this time. 

“I’m a journalism major. I’ve just always loved studying history is all.” This kid just kept getting more and more intriguing. 

“And you took this class because you heard I was teaching it?” I verified, still not really believing it was true. 

“Yes.” He nodded his affirmation. 

“I see.” I thought on these revelations for a beat. “Alright brat. Come by after class on Friday. I can spare some time to bore you to death with the intricacies of the Colonial Wars.” 

“Great!” He actually looked genuinely excited. “I’ll see you in class on Friday, Professor!” and he was practically bouncing out the door. Strange kid, he didn’t seem off put at all. So much for Hanji’s bad vibe theory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up, this is not your typical soulmate story. It's going to be a bit slower, and a bit more..."psychological"? Is that the right word? I don't know. It's going to be worth it, though. There will be eventual fluff/smut, or so help me!!
> 
> I spent so long working out plotty things, I'm just relieved this is finally up!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


	2. The Second

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By putting forward the hands of the clock you shall not advance the hour.  
> (Victor Hugo)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure what to say. Thanks for reading?
> 
> This fic writes itself, I swear.

That night I didn’t toss the offending bottle of scotch, opting instead to dispose of it through other means. 

It was a decision that I thoroughly regretted the next morning when I woke with a pounding headache and nausea settled low in my gut. After a very long, very warm shower and two super-sized cups of coffee I finally felt ready for a long day dealing with students and bullshit research. 

Somehow the second day of classes was worse than the first. I only had one of them on Thursdays, which normally would have me jumping for joy. Well, perhaps not literally. But as close to jumping for joy as someone like me could get. But today I just wasn't feeling it. 

I had never really wanted to be a teacher in the first place, and I didn’t think I was particularly good at it now that I had become one. The students always gave me headaches, and I hardly even got to teach anything I actually cared about. It didn’t help that I’d never been good at dealing with other people; Hanji wasn’t completely off base with her “bad vibe" theory. I would have preferred to focus on research and writing my books, but being an academic in a subject that not many people care about doesn’t exactly pay the bills. I'd been steered towards being a research professor since my days as an undergraduate, given that options for what I really wanted to do are virtually nonexistent. And now that I was here, if I wanted to stay on the payroll I would have to teach a full schedule of classes as required by of academic staff. It was frustrating, to put it lightly. 

I was just counting my blessings they let me off with the bare minimum this semester, even if none of the classes were in my specialty; usually they stuck me with a much fuller schedule. I guess they were getting worried that I wouldn’t meet my deadlines. Not that they were wrong to be worried. With a status report due at the end of the month, I was woefully behind. But it’d been a rough couple of months. I had other things on my mind than meeting some artificially imposed deadline forced on me against my will. 

So that was my current situation: being bribed with a light schedule so that I would finish my book on time. The university publishing editor was constantly on my ass about that damn deadline, as if I wasn’t aware that if I missed it I would cause them a lot of problems. That they thought I gave two shits about their deadline even though I'd made it clear I couldn't give a flying fuck was baffling. It would get done when it got done. 

Still, I _should_ probably be more serious about getting it done. Researching those damn books was the one aspect of this job I didn't actually hate. 

My office was on the third floor of the history building. Luckily the department had enough room that each professor has their own; I don’t think I could survive if I had to share space with one of my colleagues. They tended to be more partial to chaos than myself, at least if the state of their offices were anything to go by. 

My office was small, and cozy. The large, standard university issue, wooden desk being the room’s most prominent feature sitting in an “L” configuration with one length flush against the far wall. I kept it mostly uncluttered; hating the concept of knick-knacks, and believing every paper has a home. It wasn’t completely devoid of personal touches, however: my degrees hung in a neat row along the wall above my computer, though they’re really less impressive than they looked, and a small, black frame with a picture of myself and Petra from happier times sat next to my computer, along with a larger, more colorful frame with a picture of the family from a Christmas some years ago: Me and Petra, Erwin, Mike and the kids, Hanji and Moblit all squished on my couch smiling like assholes. 

In the opposite corner from my desk sat a small bookshelf, stuffed full of a wide variety of books. The thicker, dustier ones were mostly academic, and mostly for my research, but there were quite a few that had little use aside from pleasure tucked among the intimidating bindings. 

I pulled one of those thick, intimidating books from the shelves and sat in my chair. Unlike the other furniture in the small space, my chair was not university issue. The chairs provided by the school had padding that was thin and stiff, and I always ended up aching by the end of the week. Erwin and Mike had given me the plush, leather, swivel chair I now sat in for Christmas the first year I started teaching, citing one too many days of listening to complaints about my back. 

I switched my computer on and flipped through the crisp pages of the book, hoping with any luck I could focus long enough get some writing in before my only class of the day. 

Unfortunately, it seemed luck wasn’t with me this morning. I spent nearly an hour staring at the text in front of me, and took some simple notes on quotes I could maybe use. But I didn’t write anything of value. Not a single word. I heaved a sigh and slammed the book shut, turning my attention to the large calendar propped against the wall. 

Three weeks. In three weeks I would have to send what I had to the publishing editor for review. They wanted two-hundred pages, one half of my planed end-product. Currently my page count hovered around one-hundred twenty; they really weren't going to be happy with me this time. Unfortunately, I hadn’t been able to find the motivation to write in over a month. Every attempt I’d made would end the same way: staring at my work as my mind wandered. Sometimes I would spend hours just sitting there, thinking about nothing and not writing. 

This, of course, would only piss me off. Which often led to me storming home and drinking until I didn’t feel pissed off anymore, which would lead me to thinking of my crumbling relationship, which would lead to me drinking more, which would only make me think about Petra more, which would end with me crawling into bed to try to avoid having to think about Petra. Which meant I got nothing done for another night. 

There was nothing I could do about that right now though, I had another class to introduce myself to. I grabbed my coat and other trappings to begin the short trip as I checked my watch. 

10:50, plenty of time. 

It wasn't far to the building that held most of the history department classes, only about two hundred yards across a small courtyard littered with benches, and a snow covered fountain at its center that sat sad and empty in the winter months. I could cross the courtyard in just under two minutes when I hurried: up a small incline, around the large stone monument with it's basin full of icy snow, and down a path of crackling concrete. I pulled my scarf up around my nose and pushed the door open and stepped out into my own personal hell, and even though I had more than enough of time before class was due to start, the wind nipping at my face was more than enough motivation for me to set as brisk as pace as possible. 

Winter was, by far, my least favorite of the seasons. Especially Sina’s winters. Winter meant snow and ice, itchy wool clothes, chapped lips, and irritated skin. And hats. I hated hats. I look like an idiot in hats. But worst of all, winter meant germs: the flu, and colds. Runny noses, watering eyes, coughing and sneezing - oh, god, the sneezing. It wasn’t like I was a germaphobe or anything, but the thought of all that bacteria coming rocketing out of someone else's body at the speed of sound still made me shutter. I always carried an extra bottle of sanitizer with me during the cold months, but there were some things that even all the sanitizer in the world couldn’t clean. 

I forced my hands deeper into the pockets of my heavy coat as I sped-walked towards the door of the looming brick building, feeling the chill creeping in through the dense fabric even as I crossed the courtyard in record time, and cursed to myself as I stepped into the warm embrace of the building, the rattling of its prehistoric heating system a familiarly annoying, yet totally welcome, sound. I've always hated this damned building, I slowly remembered with a scrunch of my nose. It was ancient, and smelled like it. Like an musty, old book that hadn’t been opened in decades: of old paper, binding glue, and dust. It was the second oldest building at the university, nearly one hundred fifty years old - an designation only fitting for the building where the history department held its classes. 

Though it had been renovated countless times since it was built nearly a century and a half ago it still retained a lot of its old allure. Despite the original hardwood flooring being long covered over in some renovation decades ago with ugly off-white linoleum that scuffed too easily the walls were plaster with wood paneling covering the bottom half, not cinder block as was common in most of the newer buildings on campus. The doors were still original, as well; heavy, dark wood with contrasting golden knobs and frosted window panes that bore the room's numbers written in a delicate, golden script. If it weren’t for the smell, and the dust, I might have actually enjoyed the building's charm. 

I walked down the narrow, familiar halls, searching for the correct room. This class was more my style compared to yesterday's. It was small - only 30 students - and the highest level -reserved for upperclassmen. Which meant no annoying, cocky freshman. Though it wasn’t my first choice in subject matter - being a comparative class on a number of decidedly different civil wars - I've always liked the more theory heavy classes. So at least there was that. 

Finally, I found the room: tucked into a far, back corner away from the higher trafficked thoroughfares. It was small and rectangular with tall windows lining the back wall and only enough seating for forty, and even that was a tight fit. The blackboard stretched across the entire front of the room, with the projector screen rolled up and tucked away in the ceiling. Situated off to the left was the lectern that held the computer equipment, something that had always irritated me about this building. It was inconvenient having to walk back and forth from the center of the room where I did most of my speaking, to the podium to advance the slides. 

Standard university issue wooden desks sat in eight rows of five facing forward, a few already filled. None of the ones taken were in the front two rows, I noticed. It wasn't that unusual, even for professors with a better reputation than myself. What set my classes apart was that even the over achievers tended to put as much distance between themselves and my lectern as possible. I desperately wanted to point out that, despite the rumors, it’s wasn't like I was going to bite anyone’s head off if they got too close. Instead, I just rolled my eyes and began setting up. I pulled the roster list up on the computer and scanned it over quickly. A full class, the majority of them men as most of my classes tended to be. Military history just wasn’t as popular with the ladies, for whatever reason. 

I checked the time, five more minutes till class began. I clicked around on the computer, getting squared away as the rest of the students meandered in. A handful that were either more courageous than their classmates, or who hadn’t heard the rumors about their professor yet, had nearly filled up the second row when a familiar face entered the room and caught my eye, giving me a small wave. Confused, I double-checked the roster quickly. 

“Jaeger." I barked at him "You aren’t in this class.” It came out more like a question than a statement of fact. He paused his search for a seat and turned to me, shrugging. 

“I’m sixth on the wait-list. I was hoping to sit in on the first few lectures so when someone drops out I’m not behind.” the insinuation that enough people would drop out for him to gain a spot should have pissed me off more than it did, but I knew he was right. I tended to see a higher than average rate of student loss in the first few weeks. It wasn’t a fact I was exactly proud of, but what could I do – it’s not like I had control over the bad vibes I apparently gave off. 

What did piss me off was that smug way he pointed out he knew I had a high drop rate, and his blind confidence in the fact that at least six people were going to drop my course in the next two weeks. 

“No.” I sneered, feeling my features contort into a frown. Honestly, I didn’t care if he sat in on my lecture. It wasn’t like it affected anything. But he had pointed out my drop rate. It wasn't feeling especially generous at the moment. 

“Oh come on, you can’t kick me out.” He whined, readjusting the bag on his back. 

“I sure as shit can.” I narrowed my eyes at him sharply, but he only returned the glare, undeterred by even my harshest look. Defiantly, he plopped down into the closest desk: front row and center. I narrowed my eyes at him further as he raised an expectant eyebrow; as if to say 'what are you going to do? Pick me up and physically throw me out?' I briefly considered doing just that, having no doubt I had the strength to pull it off, but decided I valued my job more than making a point and just rolled my eyes. Fucking immature brats. 

“Fine.” It came out as a snarl. “No interruptions this time. You’re here as an observer. Act like it.” I tacked on harshly, an he threw his hands up as if to say 'who me?' Yes, fucking you, you shit head. I rolled my eyes again. It was past time for me to start, and I couldn't keep arguing with a student like a child. I had a thirty other students I actually had to teach. 

He didn’t interrupt me the entire class, keeping to his silent agreement. Which made it easy to avoid his gaze, and the urge to bore a hole through his forehead with a glare, as I laid out the syllabus and course overview. It went much smoother than the day before, and I was able to get through all the material. 

An hour and fifteen minutes later, I had cooled off considerably and the intense desire to smack him over the back of the head for being such a petulant little shit had passed. Class was finally dismissed, and I went about closing up the computer and collecting my things until heard the rustling of clothes above me. I looked up to be met with the same sweatshirt-clothed chest as before. This brat was too fucking tall. Even if I was 5'3", this was a bit ridiculous. The idiot kid must be 6'0" at least, I figured. 

“Are you stalking me, Jaeger?” My question was answered with a chuckle. Guess he thought I was hilarious now as well. I didn’t dare looking up at his face, or those bright blue-green eyes. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of me having to look up at him. Besides, he'd probably just laugh at my glare anyways, which would do wonders for my already delightful mood. 

“I told you, I just like your work.” His voice was lilted with amusement, which was just absolutely perfect, and slowly the urges to assault one of my students was returning. 

“And because you like my work that means you have to take all of my classes?” I saw his arms raise quickly in my peripheral. A shrug. 

Finally, I gave in and looked up at him. He was smiling, eyes shining down at me. 

It was a nice smile I had to admit, no matter how reluctantly. As far as annoying brats went, he was actually pretty attractive. I could see the potential buried beneath his baggy clothing, and mop of mousy hair. Standing here now, I noticed things that I hadn’t yesterday - like the way that unruly hair looked soft to the touch; or how his shoulders under that baggy red hoodie were broad, giving hints at a solider build than one would expect on such a thin frame; or just how bright his eyes actually were, and that they were actually aquamarine, like a pair of fucking gemstones, or some shit. 

Even though I found them attractive on occasion, I’d never been especially interested in men. That wasn’t to say that I hadn’t tried dating them in the past. There had been one or two, though it never worked out. They always ended up treating me like a woman because of my height, like something delicate they could dominate because I was small. It became annoying quickly, so I stuck with women for most of my adult life. It had just worked better this way. It had been years since I'd been with one, romantically or sexually, and nearly as long since I'd ever felt any desire to fuck a human being with a dick attached. 

But looking up at this brat - this kid - as he bit into his lower lip and raised his hand to run it through the chocolate strands of his hair, I felt the familiar heat of attraction in my gut. And if I was going to be honest with myself, a little further south as well. But why stop lying now? 

“We’re still on for tomorrow after class in your office, right?” He asked, his voice dropping like he was worried our little tiff at the start of class would stop me from performing my teacherly duties. 

“Yep.” I shut the computer off, willing away the half hard problem in my slacks, and stepped away from the lectern. 

“Good. I'm really sorry about earlier.” I didn’t offer to accept his apology, instead clicking my tongue behind my teeth. “I just really want to be in the class, and I can't help but hope enough people drop it so I can get in, is all. I didn’t mean to offend you.” His apology wasn't as endearing as he probably intended. 

“You didn’t, brat” I lied, and he seemed relieved. 

“Tomorrow at three then?” I nodded in affirmation and headed out into the hall, leaving him behind. “Great! I can't wait! I’ll see you then, professor!” He was way too excited about this. Damn confusing, attractive brat. I bundled back up into my coat and scarf and started back towards the courtyard, trying not to think too hard about what it was that was making him so excited for our little chat tomorrow. It was more than likely going to be nothing more than me giving him a private lecture on my thesis for thirty minutes before he got bored and made an excuse to leave. 

I pushed the door open and stepped out into the glacier that the campus had become. Had the temperature dropped again? Wasn't it supposed to get warmer as the day went on? I adjusted my scarf again, pulling it up higher around my nose as I walked out into the courtyard. 

The walk seemed to take no time at all. In fact, I couldn’t remember walking across the courtyard really. Not stepping over the crackling concrete, or the side-step around the bulky fountain, or the down-gradient that led to the front door of the History Department's building. I guess I’d made the journey so many times I was doing it on auto-pilot now.

I didn’t dwell, the warmth of my office awaited me. 

###### 

Warmth wasn’t the only thing waiting for me in my office when I returned. 

“I should really start locking the door.” I observed plainly, throwing my bag onto my desk. 

“I brought lunch.” Hanji held up her peace offering, a bowl of chicken-noddle soup from the campus diner which I gladly accepted. 

“So how are the students so far?” She asked between slurps, knowing I generally found my students aggravating. 

“Fine.” I replied automatically. Then, after a beat, added “Well, there is this one weird brat.” I knew immediately I was going to regret offering that piece of information. She was going to mine me for more after hearing that. She wouldn't give in until she'd squeezed me for even the smallest detail I could remember. As if to confirm what I already knew she leaned in closer, slurping loud as she sucked a noodle through he teeth, not even opting for subtlety in her pursuit of more information. “He’s been in both of my classes so far. On purpose.” I offered, and Hanji threw herself back in her chair in a mocking display of shock. 

“On purpose?" She gasped "You don’t say?" 

“He said he liked my thesis.” I muttered, spinning my plastic spoon through the warm broth. 

“Your thesis?” She clarified. I nodded and she burst into a fit of laughter. 

“He actually read your thesis?" She managed between cackles "How old is this kid?” 

“I don’t know. How would I know that?” I sounded defensive, I knew, which was like blood in the water for a shark like Hanji Zoe. Gossip was sustenance for her kind, and my tone was like chum. But honestly, I didn't have any idea how old Jaeger was. Though the kid looked like a teenager, being on the waitlist for an upper level course meant he couldn’t have fewer than sixty credit hours already. Meaning unless he was either some kind of boy-genius, or he was at least twenty. "He made an appointment to come by and talk about it on Friday.” 

“His age?” 

“No, shitty Glasses." I was perpetually surprised at how dense she could be. "My thesis.” 

“Oh, of course.” She giggled at her mistake. “He wasn’t repelled by your bad vibes?” I shook my head, a smirk settled across her lips. “One of us! One of us!” she chanted, forcing my eyes to roll in an exaggerated fashion. Hanji always got excited when she found more people who weren't turned off to my particular brand of assholery, as if that meant anything more than they were, more often than not, just as big of an asshole as I was. 

“He’s a kid.” I pointed out. 

“A kid that isn’t disturbed by your hard outer shell” she retorted “that’s rare.” And it was. I could count the number of people that claimed to like me on my fingers. "Now it's only a matter of time before he discovers your warm, nouggaty center." She continued with another cackle, and I shot her a look that indicated I wanted the subject dropped. Luckily she acquiesced, allowing us to eat in silence for several minutes before she could no longer keep her trap shut. 

“How’s Petra.” I glared, she gave me a pointed look, and I clicked my tongue in annoyance before turned to start up my computer. 

“When’s the last time you spoke with her?” She no longer sounded amused, taking on a much more firm tone than before when we were joking about Jaeger, and I clenched my jaw. I really, really didn’t feel like talking about this right now. "Levi?" She called when I didn't answer her immediately, to which I only shrugged. 

“Levi.” She tried again, a little more forcefully. 

“What?” I spat, unable to look at her. I knew she'd be upset with me over this. There was no way she wouldn't be. Hanji loved Petra almost as much as I did, she was part of the family. And I was fucking it up. 

“Let us help you. We all want to be there for you. Please.” Her pleading tone told me she was serious. Hanji was hardly ever totally serious. But I didn't really want help. Not with this. 

“I don’t know.” I afforded reluctantly. 

“You don’t know what?” I sighed. Was I really doing this? 

“The last time we spoke. It was before Christmas, but I don't remember when.” Was it normal for couples to go weeks without talking? Were we even still a couple? 

“Have you tried calling her.” 

_No_. "What do you think?” She paused for a moment, as if actually thinking about it. 

“You should, Levi. I know the fight was bad this time, but you should at least call her.” 

_I know_. “We’ll see.” It was Hanji’s turn to sigh. 

Lunch didn’t last much longer after that. Hanji had her own classes to get back to and I needed to try to get something on paper. It was a foolhardy endeavor, and I ended up spending over two hours staring at the book in front of me blankly. Nothing came. 

I thought about Petra, mostly. About how I probably should call and at least talk to her, about how she would have called by now if she actually wanted to talk to me about it, about how I wasn't sure we could actually fix it this time, about if I actually wanted to fix it this time, if there was anything left worth fixing. But weaved into that depressing tapestry there was the occasional, and errant, thought about the brat with the teal eyes. 

Was he crazy? That would be just my luck, the first person to express an actual interest in my work outside of my bosses, and advisers, and it would have to be a brat that belonged in a psych-ward. 

Maybe it was really all some kind of sick joke? On Friday would he come in and film my reaction while he told me I was a loser and my life was a mess and my work was useless until I broke down, and then post it online, becoming the instant hero of every history major I've ever failed? I'd never had a student actually be interested in what I studied, that actually wanted to come to my office to hear about wars they wouldn’t even be tested on at the end of the semester. This was unfamiliar territory for me. 

Those eyes of his were unfamiliar territory for me too, I was realizing. When was the last time I thought of a man as attractive? I couldn’t remember. It had been years, at least. Before I met Petra, most likely. It was strange. They were strange. Everything about that boy was strange. I couldn’t shake the thought of him, and it was becoming progressively more irritating. Trying to formulate a distraction, I looked over to the clock that hung on the wall. 

3:21. 

Time to call it a day. I wasn’t going to get anything done here I determined; I should at least be comfortable while I didn’t work.

###### 

I dropped onto my couch, fresh glass of scotch in hand. It was my second glass since I had gotten home thirty minutes ago. I really should't have gotten another, somewhere deep down I knew that, but I’d been more stressed than usual lately. I needed this. 

I tried to forget about the conversation I had with Hanji over lunch, but when I pushed it from my mind it was only replaced by thoughts of the confusing brat instead. I never thought I would favor thinking about my disintegrating relationship over anything else, but I may have just found something that held that honor. 

I turned my phone around in my hand. I really should call her, it’s been weeks. Maybe she thinks I don’t want to talk to her, and that’s why she hasn’t called? 

Did I even want to talk to her though? I wasn’t sure. 

Maybe she'd just been too busy to drop a line? Not that she'd ever been too busy to at least shoot me a text letting me know she’s alive, even in the middle of our worst fights. We never went more than a week without a 'hey I'm not dead' text. I took a large sip of the scotch and pulled up her contact information. 

I should just do it. Fuck it, she’s still my girlfriend, I have every right to call her. 

I hit send. 

It rang five times, not that I was counting them, and it was as the sixth started to sound that she finally picked up. 

“Hello?” It was formal, and stiff, like she hadn't even bothered to check the caller ID to see who was calling. Not a good sign, she was probably swamped at work. I should have waited until later to do this. But later, I'd probably be too trashed to handle this. 

“Hey.” It was simple, and neutral, and still she didn’t answer right away. Fuck this was a bad idea. 

“Oh, hey.” Her voice was layered with surprise, and apprehension. Fucking motherfucker, could I have been a bigger an idiot. She didn't want to talk to me, of fucking course she didn't. 

“Can you talk?” Another long pause. What the fuck was I thinking? If she had wanted to talk to me, she would have fucking called me. 

“Um, it’s kind of a bad time Levi. Can I call you back?” 

_No, we need to have this talk now. I can’t live like this anymore_. “I guess so.” I’m such a fucking coward. 

“I’ll call you tomorrow.” The line went dead before I could get another word in. There was no "I love you", no words of encouragement, or any indication that she saw anything between us worth salvaging. It wasn't like the lack of an "I love you" was new. Like a lot of things, I couldn’t remember the last time we'd said those words. But no goodbye? No "It'll be okay, Levi"? Nothing? That was new, and terrifying, and nearly confirmed every fear that had run through my head in the past few weeks. 

I shouldn't have called, she sounded so exhausted. I wanted to believe that maybe it was just work that was keeping her; Even if she didn't call on Christmas, my birthday, and I knew she wasn't working then. She didn't even tell me she wasn't coming to babysit on New Year's. She just wanted to avoid "the talk". I knew it because I did too. But ignoring the fact that our relationship was over wouldn't make things better. 

I should just call her back and tell her it's over once and for all be done with the bullshit: be done with walking on eggshells, and wondering where we stand, and what she's thinking, and if either of us wants to actually save whatever the fuck it was we had together in the first place. 

I stared at my phone, hand hovering over the re-dial button. 

Fuck. 

I chucked my phone across the room, not really caring where it landed or if it broke. Fuck this. Fuck feeling alone. Fuck love. Fuck Petra. Fuck the way she makes me feel. Fuck me. Fuck being a coward. Fuck Everything. 

I shoved off the couch to refill my glass. I’d regret it tomorrow, I was sure. But I couldn’t have given any less of a shit. I just wanted to stop feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry Levi-kins :( I love you <3
> 
> Did I mention that this was going to get dark? Because this is going to get way dark before it gets happy...
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. The Third

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I was like a clock that had exploded- my springs were hanging out, my hands were cockeyed, and my numbers were falling off.”  
>  (Anthony Kiedis, _Scar Tissue_ ) 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this took so long! I have been sooo busy. I finished polishing up a one shot (which is up, called Stuck! It's another Soulmate AU!) and between work, my other fic and that I have been so behind on writing this chapter. Plus, this chapter and the next one are kind of less entertaining for me to write. It'll really pick up around chapter 5! ~~That being said, I have the first 9 chapters of this fic planned out pretty much 100%. I'm expecting about 15 chapters total. But it will be no less than 10/11. I can't fit everything as it stands now, as I write this, in less. The reason I say 15 is because it's going to get pretty dark here, and I'm considering fluffing it up later to make up for it. But we'll see how I feel when I get to that point.~~
> 
> PSA: This fic is an AU. It doesn't take place in the US/on Earth. I guess you can say it takes place in a modified Canon-OC verse? Idk. Basically, I created a fake set of wars, and a fake history for this fake place that isn't Earth/the US, but it still isn't exactly the AoT/SnK verse. Bear with me, I won't go too crazy with the in-story discussions. I just didn't want to make Levi an expert on a real life war, because that would involve far too much real life research. I may have been a history major, but a military history major I was not! So fictional universe, with a fictional history, and fictional historical wars for Levi to obsess over.  
> Just a heads up, because I have mentioned the wars he is an expert on before, but here I go into a bit more detail on the topic. So if you have no idea what the fuck I'm talking about, good. Because I 100% made this shit up.

I half expected to walk into my first class on Friday to the sight of the green-eyed brat sitting in the front row. Despite the fact he wasn't there on Wednesday I wouldn’t have put it past the damn kid to have put himself on another of my waitlists, or at the least to try to sneak into my lecture regardless but when I checked the list last night after my fourth glass of scotch I was surprised to not see Jaeger’s name. He wasn’t on the roster either, which had already changed substantially since Wednesday. 

I tried to tell myself that I was relieved he wasn't there, but I couldn’t wash away the feeling of disappointment. It was nice finally having a student that took an interest in what I studied and taught, even if I was half certain he was only pulling my leg for a cruel joke. In my three years teaching no student had ever come up to me after class to talk about the material just because they enjoyed it. If they came up at all it's to ask for a clarification, or to see if something was going to be on the exam, but they didn’t usually bother; most choose to communicate primarily via email. 

Just because I didn’t get all worked up and emotional about my job like Hanji didn’t mean I don’t love what I do and like to talk about it with like-minded people. Well, I should rephrase. It doesn’t mean I don’t love what I study. I don’t particularly like what I do, but who does these days? 

My morning class was the most difficult of the three for me. It was my earliest, and my crippling insomnia coupled with my self-identification as "definitely not a morning person" made the nine am start time a constant source of aggravation. Not only that, just like the others, it was outside of my area of expertise. Same region, same culture, totally different time periods. For some reason, despite this huge content difference, the powers that be decided I would be perfect to teach the intricacies of a war I had a limited working knowledge of. Just because I was an expert on the end of the Colossus Empire and her colonies did not make me an expert on her founding era. They were separated by nearly a millennium, after all. 

_“The regular professor is on sabbatical,”_ they said. 

_“You just need to follow his lesson plan; we’ll even assign you a teaching assistant who aced the class last year.”_ They bargained. 

_“It will be no problem.”_ They assured. 

All very convincing words, that were worth literal shit because they didn’t change the fact that I was once again teaching something I knew very little about outside what was on the syllabus. At least this class was another upper level course, no obnoxious freshman here, even though I was going to be talking at fifty half-asleep history students for an hour and a half every other morning. Still, though, I found it monstrously easier to lecture to fifty students than one hundred fifty. 

The class went smoothly, influenced I'm sure by the striking lack of a certain teal-eyed brat. I was able to get through everything required, I even got a head start on material meant for the next class, and the pounding headache I'd woken up with had subsided. 

Unfortunately, it didn’t last, Hanji once again was waiting for me in my office and I could already feel the headache returning. 

“I thought I locked the door today.” I mummered to myself as I sat my bag down on my desk. 

“Oh, you did.” I glared at her. “These locks are really easy to pick. All you need is a hairpin and some patience.” She gave me a sly wink; it made me want to vomit. 

“What do you want, Four-Eyes?” 

“Just to take my favorite midget out for lunch.” 

“I don’t really have time today.” I did, but she didn’t need to know that. 

“Nonsense. We’re going, it’s already been decided.” She’s on her feet and heading for the door before I can respond. I don’t move from where I’m standing behind my desk, having no intention of following her. Lunch didn't sound all that appetizing, though the headache was gone the nausea in my gut hadn't yet been alleviated. 

“Let’s go, shrimpy. I’ve got a date with a Cheese-Steak Sub in ten minutes.” She called in her trademark sing-song voice, pausing at the doorway to turn back to face me with her hands on her hips. 

“I told you, I don’t have time.” My protests were only half-hearted, it was well past the point where Hanji would consider taking no for an answer. She flit down the hallway, waving for me to follow. I guessed I could spare a half hour to eat something, maybe it could actually help the lingering hangover? 

She ended up dragging me to a sub shop that opened over winter break. It was fairly basic, nothing too impressive - with its pine green painted walls covered in humorous, old-school advertisements, and its navy blue counter covered in home-made baked goods - but even I had to admit that they served a damned good sub. 

Hanji sat across from me at one of the black metal tables making a mess of her cheesesteak, but that was to be expected. She ate more like an animal than a human being sometimes, especially when she was hungry. I, in turn, picked lazily at my turkey sandwich, having not been very hungry in the first place. It wasn't just the hangover, either. Lately I was having a harder time than usual finding my appetite. 

The shop was practically empty, only a few other patrons were spread across the tables in the dining room. It was quiet; no obnoxious televisions playing loud sports coverage like a lot of the places around campus, or rowdy students shouting over each other like at the university’s dining halls. I was actually kind of enjoyed the atmosphere, even if watching Hanji gorge herself made me feel like vomiting a little. 

The bell above the door dinged, and I looked up from my sub lazily to watch a group of students entered the shop, laughing among themselves. A short boy who looked no older sixteen with blonde hair that fell to his shoulders, a tall black-haired girl of obvious Asian descent with a bright red scarf wrapped tightly around her neck shielding her mouth from view, and a taller brunette with familiar teal eyes. Well wasn’t this just the coincidence of the day? 

It seemed he hadn’t noticed me, though I half wondered if he would come say anything if he did. He was with his friends, I’m sure saying hello to his professor was low on his priorities. But I didn't have a reference point for this kind of interaction, it wasn't often I recognized a student outside the classroom without prompting. Hanji noticed me staring at the trio and her eyebrows raised in the way that they do. 

“Who’re they?” She asked after gulping down her mouthful of steak. 

“The tall one is a student of mine.” I responded, looking away to pick at my sandwich again. 

“A student?” She gave me a curious look to which I didn’t respond, choosing instead to awkwardly return my gaze to my turkey. “It wouldn’t be _that_ student would it?” My turkey was really quite interesting, I swear. “It is him isn’t it!" She exclaimed, much louder than was called for in such a small space. "He's the one that read your thesis! I can tell it is! It’s written all over your face!” Great, now she was getting excited. “I want to meet him!” 

“No.” I responded firmly, that wouldn’t end well. 

“Oh come on, I want to know what kind of kid is interested in your work. Not many people are, you know.” 

“Gee thanks, Four-Eyes.” 

“It’s not like you didn’t know that already.” She pointed out. 

“But you don’t have to go around saying shit like that.” I retorted, she just rolled her eyes. 

“Come on. Please!” She was begging me now. “Pretty please” she dragged the last syllable out for a few seconds. "Just call him over for, like, one second." 

“No. Now shut up and finish your sub.” I motioned to the abandoned mess of bread and meat on her plate. 

“You’re no fun Levi.” She shouted. I glanced up to see if he had noticed the commotion, Hanji was intentionally trying to call attention to us now. He had - of course he fucking had, how could he not have -and when he saw me looking he gave a small wave before saying something to his friends and approaching our table. 

“Hello Professor Ackerman.” At least his smile looked genuine enough. 

“Jaeger.” I acknowledged him. Hanji kicked me under the table, I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of seeing how much it actually hurt my shin and swallowed a pained yelp. That was going to bruise over. “This is my colleague, Professor Zoe-Berner.” I reluctantly introduced her. 

“So this is the student I’ve heard all about!” I winced, I knew this wasn’t going to go well. 

“You’ve heard all about me?” He asked, obviously confused. He was looking at me strangely now. 

“It’s not every day this grump gets a student that actually takes an interest in his life’s work. It was big news when he said you had actually read his thesis.” She mused, dangling a french fry before pointing it accusingly up at him. 

“Oh." he seemed to understand more now, at least, "We’ll, I mean it was an interesting read.” He tried to shrug it off. 

“Nonsense!" she scoffed, and I fought back the urge to kick her back "I personally find all that historical mumbo-jumbo to be extraordinarily boring!” 

“Don’t get me started on boring life’s work.” I shot at her. 

“I’m a neuro-biologist." She explained, adding "I study soulmates.” with a wink. 

“That doesn’t sound so boring.” He sounded sincere, and I wanted to roll my eyes. Because no matter how interesting it sounded, listening to Hanji droll on for hours about the complex chemical reactions that happen to the brain after the Feeling was enough to put most mortals to sleep. 

“Levi only thinks that because he never got one, poor lonely baby.” She reached across the table to try to pinch my cheek, I batted her hand away with more force than I should have. 

“It’s not like I wanted one.” My voice remained even and distant. 

“Look at him trying to put on such a strong face. Sure you didn’t, sugarplum.” She gave me a devious grin. Why was I friends with this woman again? I couldn’t quite recall at the moment. 

“I thought everyone wanted one.” Eren chimed in, unwittingly only making things worse, the poor, dumb, oblivious soul. This conversation was getting a little inappropriate to be having with a student. 

“Well I guess that makes me the exception." I cut off the line of discussion there, that road was best left untraveled. For now, and forever. "Shouldn’t you be getting back to your friends?” I nodded over to his friends that were watching us cautiously from a table on the other side of the room. 

“Oh yeah. I guess so.” He rubbed the back of his neck, unable to conceal his disappointment. “I’ll see you in class then, Professor. It was nice meeting you, Professor Zoe-Berner.” 

“Oh please, call me Hanji dear!” Dammit Four Eyes. 

“Alright. It was nice to meet you Hanji.” And with a small smile, and a wave he was gone. 

“He’s cute. If I was ten years younger, and not married. Mmphf.” She grunted suggestively and gave me a sly grin. 

“That’s disgusting, even for you." I sat back in my chair and gave her a look of contempt. "Fucking pervert.” 

“Oh please, as if you aren't thinking the same damn thing. Even you have to admit he's cute.” I only shrugged. Maybe he was, maybe he wasn’t. I was his professor; I couldn’t be going around calling my students cute. 

“Don’t give me that. He’s cute, and I know you think so too.” She sang, and I mean, yeah, okay. If I was going to be objective about it, the brat was cute. Profoundly cute, even. He was definitely objectively attractive. I had already realized that. But that didn’t matter, because I was his professor. And objectively attractive or not, I couldn’t think about him like that. It was so unprofessional. Also I was still with Petra; technically at least. 

“Drop it, Hanji.” I warned, which she thankfully heeded and moved on to other, more boring, topics that I really couldn’t have cared less about.

###### 

Once again I was not the first to arrive in the room for my final class of the day. Today, the brat had again chosen the seat front and center. He caught my eye, giving me a smile and a wave as I entered. How could he be so cheery about being in class? The other students spattered around the room looked miserable. For about the fiftieth time that day I couldn’t help but think how weird this kid was. 

There weren’t many students who willingly chose to sit in the front row of my class, even in rooms with limited seating; as if putting a few extra feet of distance between us would lessen my bite. It wouldn’t, but they never seemed to get that. In fact, after three years of nearly empty front rows, the closer they sat the more respect I had for them. 

Eren seemed to be the only one who got that. 

Most of my students were afraid of me, if they didn’t outright hate me. I was strict, and my lecture speed was considered relentless by many, which I only blamed on my upbringing. It was hard to grow up in a military household with a drill sergeant for a guardian and not have it wear off on you a little. But more than that, I could be abrasive; “Bad vibes” and everything. But from day one, Eren didn’t seem phased by any of that. I’m not sure if he was bad at picking up on social cues, or if he just didn’t give a shit about my attitude. Though I apparently didn’t care, actually finding myself relieved to see his mop of chestnut locks in that tiny, scuffed, olive-green chair. 

I gave him a nod in acknowledgment and approached my podium, I had less than two minutes before class was to start and I really needed to set up my slides: no time for humoring confusing brats. 

Once my lecture started I noticed the typical settling among the students. Those with laptops stared blankly at their screens, their faces illuminated by whatever they were looking at that obviously wasn’t their notes, given away by their still hands. The few without laptops were not-too-discreetly staring at their phones in their laps, as if the inclined seating didn’t mean I had full view of what they were doing beneath the surface of the desktops. Less than halfway through the lecture and I’d lost 85% of them. Though the few that were still with me weren’t very convincing, seemingly staring off into space more than actually listening to the words coming out of my mouth. I sighed to myself, taking a pause to see how many would look up and notice I’d stopped talking. Sometimes I really hated this job. Actually, most of the time I really hated this job. 

A few heads popped up, apparently noticing the quiet that had settled on the room. I rolled my eyes and continued on as if I nothing happened and they resumed their blank staring, unfazed. 

Briefly I checked the front row to find Eren scribbling away, peaking up every few minutes to look up at me before returning his attention to his notes. Well, at least one of them was actually interested in what I was saying. That made me feel a little better knowing someone was getting something out of this. 

The hour seemed to drag on forever before finally, my time was up and I was free. 

“See you in an hour, professor.” Eren gave me a wave as he exited the classroom and I found myself returning it. Right. I had an hour before office hours began, which meant sitting in my office trying to write my stupid book while I waited. Great. 

I bundled up as tightly as I could and left the safe warmth of the hall to make the long trek back to the History Department. 

I knew I wasn’t going to get anything done. It was a lost cause, yet I still pulled my books out and opened the documents on my computer. I stared at them for a solid half hour, my mind blank. 

Why was this so difficult? I loved what I studied, and writing always came easy to me before. My thesis was written in record time, according to my adviser back in grad school. Why couldn’t I put even one sentence on the page now? 

Infuriated, I slammed the book shut and closed the tabs on my computer. I couldn’t sit here and stare at this shit anymore. 

I reached into the bottom drawer of my desk and withdrew the bottle of bourbon I kept there for emergencies. I hated drinking at work, it was unprofessional; especially since I had a student coming in approximately thirty minutes. But fuck it, I needed a drink; Or maybe two. 

I didn’t even bother with the glass I had stashed next to the bottle in the drawer, choosing instead the route of least effort: straight from the bottle. 

I stared at the clock in the corner of my computer screen, hoping if my gaze was strong enough I could actually will time forward faster. The sooner the brat got here, the sooner I could get this awkward experience over with and go home to get drunk in private like a respectable adult that hated their life. 

No such luck; in fact, I think staring at the clock was actually making it move slower. I sighed and slowly let my eyes shut; and then, with the inhale, I reopened them. 

2:40. 

Wait, wasn’t it just 2:36? I took another swig of bourbon, eyeing my computer carefully. Stupid technology couldn’t be trusted. 

I pushed away from my desk, swirling the bottle around before me. At least it was taking some of the edge off. However, I really didn’t want to be drunk for my little talk with Eren, it wouldn’t look good to the higher ups in the department if I was caught in my office at three in the afternoon utterly sloshed for office hours. So, reluctantly, I took one last, long swig and replaced the bottle in its drawer for later. 

###### 

The brat arrived right at three, rapping softly on the door before pushing it in slowly to break me from my thoughtless silence. The quiet had been violently oppressive in the fifteen minutes between stashing the bottle back it’s drawer and his entrance, and my buzz was already wearing off, much to my chagrin. 

“Professor?” He inquired, stepping into my office, “are you ready for me?” 

“Make yourself at home.” I motioned lazily to the chair that sat on the far side of my desk. “What do you want to talk about?” I asked leaning back into the chair, letting it bounce slightly as my weight shifted. I had no idea what he expected to get from this, and intended to let him guide the next however-long-it-took until he was satisfied and out of my office. 

“I just had some questions for you about your thesis.” He looked uncharacteristically stiff in the chair: with his hands pulled into a tight ball in his lap and his back straight, posture rigid. Being used to him lazily slouching at his desk, it was an odd sight to take in. 

“Shoot.” I turned away from him, busying myself with some stray papers on my desk in a poor attempt at nonchalance, as if I did this all the time. No use beating around the bush: the sooner this was over, the sooner I could be at home with a nice glass of scotch in my hand. That was what weekends were for, after all. 

He asked me general questions at first, about the wars and what my opinion of them were. The Colossus Empire fell over five hundred years ago in a fury of colonial revolts and wars for independence. Collectively, they became known as the Colonial Wars. Shitty name, I know. I didn’t name them; if I had I would have picked something much more attention grabbing. Then maybe people would actually care about them and I wouldn’t get stuck teaching shitty classes I hated on topics I knew little about. 

As our time pressed further, though, and he grew more comfortable, his posture relaxed, and he settled back into his chair into a position I was much more familiar with: his legs extended in front of him, arms propped up on the chair's arms, slouching down so that his height was masked, and his questions became progressively more detailed, and fact specific. 

What did I think about the actions taken by this General, in this battle, on this day? Did he make the right decision? Could this front of the war have ended differently if he had done this instead? 

Did I think this political event would have had a greater effect if this political activist hadn’t been assassinated before it could happen? 

What were my opinions on the genocide of the Shifter peoples that started the whole mess in the first place? Did I agree with the revolutionary research published by the Shifter Bloodlines Society early last year? Or did I think it was bunk and agree with greater academia? 

For all my assumptions, the kid had actually proven me wrong. He really knew his shit. It had been a long time since I had a conversation like this with someone under the age of fifty. I couldn’t help but be impressed, he hadn’t been kidding when he said he loved the Wars. His knowledge on the subject far exceeded that of a normal college student or enthusiast. It was almost like he'd read every piece of scholarship, every book, written about the wars published in the last fifty years. Which, as our conversation went on longer and longer I realized was actually likely to be the case. I wasn't even sure I'd read every piece of literature out there on the topic - it had hundreds of documents at least. 

The way the brat talked about it, the look he got in his eyes when discussing the strategies of long dead generals that no one had cared about for centuries, or the ramifications of the high failure rates of the Empire’s infantry gun of choice. I could see the passion in them, it was the same way I got when I first started studying the wars. All worked up, and passionate, and not yet jaded by the system, and my heart twinged in my chest, like I was seeing an echo of myself. 

“Are you sure you’re not a history major?” I asked him in utter disbelief as our talk was winding down. There was no way I hadn't been lied to before. 

“I’m sure.” He cracked a small, sad smile. “I used to be though.” I raised an eyebrow at that, curiosity piqued. He took the cue and continued explaining without further prompting. “Before I transferred.” So that’s why I hadn’t seen him in my classes before. 

“You transferred?” 

“From Titan College, in Shiganshina.” I gave him a strange look. 

“I got my PhD from Titan College.” 

“Oh, yeah. I kinda knew that." He reached up to scratch the back of his neck, probably knowing how creepy it sounded. "It’s actually where I read your thesis. One of my professors gave me a copy to read.” 

“Shadis?” I asked cautiously. 

“Yeah, how did you know?” He seemed more surprised than he should have. 

“He was my faculty adviser while I was getting my degree.” This was too strange, it wasn’t like Sina and Siganshina were close to each other. What were the odds that this brat would start at my alma mater, and end up at the school I taught at half-way across the country just a few years after reading my thesis? “You sure you’re not stalking me?” I asked again. 

“I’m sure.” He chuckled “It was a total coincidence, but once I saw your name on the course list I just couldn’t resist. I had to meet you.” He admitted sheepishly, and I noticed a light blush working up from under his sweatshirt. Stalker or not, his weird obsession with me was something I didn't think I'd ever understand. 

“Why? There are better scholars on the subject out there than me.” 

“Not many of them that finish their PhD in under 6 years and win the History Scouts Award with their first published work.” Did this kid know my whole life story or something? “Shadis actually told me a lot about you, you were his last grad student before I was in his class. He was like, obsessed with you.” He must have noticed I was taken aback by how much he knew about me. That explained a lot though, actually. That damn old bastard. I should probably call him and yell at him for blabbering about me to his crazy-ass students. 

“More obsessed than you are?” The brat only laughed at me and nodded. I knew Shadis loved me, he always said I was his best student since he’d started teaching at Titan. But I always figured he was full of hot air. Though, if he was singing my praises to some shitty brat maybe he had meant some of what he had said. 

“Why’d you transfer? Titan is one of the best schools in the country for history.” 

“You’re only saying that because you went there.” 

“No, I only chose it because it is one of the best in the country.” I pointed out, his sad smile was back. 

“My sister, well she didn’t exactly make me switch majors. I chose to, technically.” I waited for him to continue, that wasn’t exactly an answer. He shifted nervously, obviously this conversation was getting personal. 

“No offense, but history isn’t really a marketable major.” I frowned, he had a point I guess. There was a reason I was stuck in a job I hated. “I have to help support my mom once I graduate, and I can’t really do that on a teacher’s salary.” 

“So why journalism?” I pushed, deciding that asking about his mother probably wasn’t the better course even if it sounded more interesting. He shrugged. 

“Better job prospects, I guess. And I think I’d be a good reporter. I’m good at talking to people, and I’m a good writer.” I nodded, if he did time as a history major he was likely right about the last part. 

“Then why transfer?” Another shrug. 

“I hated it at Titan. I always wanted to go there. You could ask anyone from high school, it was like, my dream to go to Titan. I’d always felt like it was the place for me. But once I was actually there, I was miserable. It wasn’t anything like I thought it would be.” I could sympathize with that; it was how I felt when I first arrived at Sina. All the excitement over a new place, new people, and a new job evaporated on my first day. 

“Why did you choose Sina? Shiganshina isn’t exactly close.” 

“My sister goes here, my best friend from home too. They love it here, so they thought I might too. And I don’t know, I believed them I guess. Something about Sina seemed like it would be the right fit.” He shifted in his seat again, hands falling into his lap so he could pull aimlessly at his fingers. 

“Is it?” How he wasn’t fazed by my monotone and blank face I’d never understand. Instead of the normal reaction, which was to give me a nasty look and call me a dick, this kid was sitting and holding a normal conversation like I wasn’t a cold, emotionless board. Guess it was this hero worship thing of his that made him blind to my “bad vibes”. He was even smiling at me - it was strange. I wasn’t used to this, no one was this comfortable with me this quickly after meeting me. Not even Hanji. Not even Petra. 

“Oh yeah, I love it so far.” I noticed a rush of relief, I hadn’t even been aware I was anxious for his response. Part of me must have been concerned he’d transfer again, out of my classes and my front row. It was only three days into the semester and already I knew I would miss his strange presence in my classroom if he were to leave. There was something about having an admirer that really brightened up a person’s day. 

It was only then that I recalled something I had forgotten from this morning. 

“Why weren’t you in my first class today? I figured you’d try to annoy me in everything I was teaching this semester.” 

“I have a required class I need for my major that's only offered in that time slot. Trust me, I was more than disappointed when I realized. But if I want to graduate on time, I need to get all these requirements out of the way as soon as I can.” 

“What kind of shitty major only offers one session of a required class a semester?” I sneered at the thought, what a shitty way to run a department. 

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were disappointed I wasn’t there.” He was laughing at me, wiggling his eyebrows a little and I could only rolled my eyes at him, biting back the smirk I felt forming. 

“Please, I was just wondering if I should be expecting your shitty self in my front row on Monday morning so I could prepare myself with an extra cup of coffee.” He laughed again, apparently I was hilarious or the kid was high. He had been laughing quite a lot since he had entered my office. More than I was used to, even with Hanji. 

I looked at my clock, it was already after five. We had spent more than two hours talking; It really didn’t seem like it had been that long. 

“You’re going to have to get out of my office now, brat. I have to get out of this hell hole.” I stood and began packing my bag to go home. I had almost forgotten about the bottle of scotch waiting for me at home. Almost. 

“Alright, professor. I’ll see you Monday then.” I heard the disappointment in his words, but refused to look up to see it on his face, only waving him away. Luckily, he left without another word and though I had actually, surprisingly, really enjoyed our conversation, I was finally home free. 

###### 

I settled into my cushioned desk chair at home, second glass of scotch in my hand. About halfway through my first I got the first urge to write I had gotten in close to a month. I wasn’t going to let this escape before I put it to good use. 

After my conversation with Eren I was in an unusually good mood. Someone actually loved what I studied as much as I did. Someone that wasn't a crotchety old windbag from established academia with a graying beard and bladder control issues, and was willing to talk about it. More than willing, really. 

It felt good to talk about my life's work with someone I didn't feel nauseated looking at. Petra had always tried to at least feign interest, but I knew she really couldn’t have cared less. Hanji would threaten me with long lectures on the intricacies of the soulmate brain in exchange, and Erwin never even tried to pretend like he gave a damn. Sometimes I just wanted somebody to talk to that got it. And I guess if that somebody was a student it would have to do. 

I got about a paragraph on paper before my phone rang. It was more than I had written since break began, and I was feeling a bit proud of myself. When I saw the name on the caller ID, however, my mood crashed. 

Petra. 

I swallowed the remainder of my scotch and clicked the answer button. 

“Levi?” 

“Hm?” I mumbled, standing abruptly to head for the kitchen and refill my glass. I was going to need it for this. I hadn’t tried to contact her since she abruptly hung up on me the other night. I figured she was more than busy without her boyfriend of five years interrupting here. 

“Hey, baby.” 

“Petra.” I was ignoring the pet name; she was still ignoring the obvious fact that this relationship was clearly dead. 

“I’m sorry about the other day. You called when I was in the middle of a meeting. It really was a bad time.” 

_Yet it still took you over twenty-four hours to return the call_? “It’s fine, I know you’re busy.” 

“I don’t have long. My flight for Stohess leaves in ten minutes.” Was it the night she was leaving for that conference already? 

“Oh, that’s this weekend?” I punctuated with an extra long sip from my glass. 

“Yeah, sorry.” 

_No you’re not_. “It’s okay.” 

“I won’t have time to call you this weekend, okay. I’ll be back on Monday. We’ll see each other then and we can talk.” 

_No, we won’t. You know it. I know it. Why lie?_ “Sure, Petra.” I’m such a stupid fucking coward. 

“I’ll see you in a few days.” 

“Mhm.” 

“I have to go now, that was last call for boarding. Bye, Levi.” 

“Bye.” 

The line went dead. 

I hated myself for not being able to end this fucking relationship. I told myself I didn’t want to ruin her trip, that maybe she was serious about seeing me on Monday. Maybe we would hang out and things would go back to normal? Maybe we could pretend we were still happy, still in love? Because anything was better than feeling like absolute shit for this: for missing her, for being lonely. For not wanting to love her anymore, but not being able to hate her. 

Fuck this, I was not going to wallow again. It was a Friday night for crying out loud. 

I quickly searched through my contacts for the right one, and she answered on the second ring. 

“Levi, you never call me first. What’s happened? What’s wrong? Is it an emergency? Are you hurt? Were you in an accident? Do you need me to call you a doctor?” She was freaking out, and I couldn't get a word in. I rolled my eyes extra hard, it wasn’t like I never called her. She was too quick to over react. 

“Shut the fuck up Four-Eyes." I yelled over her ramblings to get her attention "I’m fine. Everything is fine.” _Liar_. 

“Then what would you possibly be calling me for?” 

“Grab Moblit, Glasses. We’re getting drunk tonight.” She squealed with glee and I heard her yelling Moblit’s name, telling him to get off the couch. 

“Hurry up, I’ll meet you downtown.” I needed to be drunk twenty minutes ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it!  
> Much Love,  
> RG


	4. The Fourth and Fifth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Unfortunately, the clock is ticking, the hours are going by. The past increases, the future recedes. Possibilities decreasing, regrets mounting.” 
> 
> Haruki Murakami (Dance Dance Dance) 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was painful to write. Not because of anything that happens in it, but because there was no Eren in it :( :( Sorry guys!  
> Thanks for reading everybody!

I woke the next morning with my head pounding and a lingering taste of vomit on my tongue. Disgusting. I groaned as I pushed myself up off my couch, apparently I hadn’t been able to make it to my bed. 

Quickly I checked my pockets, everything was accounted for. No missing wallets or limbs from what I could tell, that was a good sign. It’s been a while since I blacked out like that, and it was slowly coming back to me why I tried to avoid it. Just how much had I drank last night? 

I felt my phone buzzing in my pocked, who the fuck could it be this early? Wait. What time was it even? I checked the clock: 

1:47 PM. 

Well shit. At least it’s a Saturday. 

“What” I growled into the receiver, irritated that I was awake more than I was at whoever was calling. 

“He lives!” Hanji shouted, and I cringed. How was she this fine? She should be just as miserable as I was after all the drinking we did. At least, I thought that was the case; I was missing significant portions of my night. “How are you feeling, Shortstuff?” 

“Like hell”. I groaned, applying pressure with my palm to where my forehead was pounding. 

“We just wanted to be sure you weren’t dead. When we dropped you off you just collapsed on your couch and wouldn’t budge.” 

“So you just left me there?” 

“You seemed comfortable enough.” my hand left my forehead to pinch the bridge of my nose. 

“What happened last night?” 

“You don’t remember our kiss?” I could hear the teasing tone behind her poor attempt at shock. 

“Don’t make me vomit again or you’re a dead woman, Four Eyes” 

“Oh come on, it was funny.” She was pouting, I could tell. 

“No. It wasn’t.” She really had a poor sense of humor. “Just tell me if there is anything I can’t remember that I should.” I was in no mood to put up with her this morning. 

“Nope. You’re good Professor Half-Pint. Just a lot of shots, and vomit. Mostly of the word variety, but a little of the gross variety too.” I wasn’t sure how much Hanji could be trusted. For all I know she could have dragged me home and ran some experiments on my brain while I was drunk. I wouldn’t put it past her. But I guess I was going to have to take her word for it. I wasn’t sure how much I really cared what happened to begin with. 

“Is there anything else, then. Or did you just call to annoy me?” 

“Just making sure you didn’t drown in your own puke!” 

“Goodbye, Glasses.” I hung up before she could protest, and I knew she would. 

Today was going to be long, I had agreed to watch the kids for Erwin and Mike while they had a “date night”. They seemed to have a lot of those, and I couldn’t help but be a little jealous. When was the last time me and Petra had a date night? 

No. I couldn’t think about Petra now. My head already felt like someone took a steam roller to it. I didn’t need the extra stress. 

I had a few hours before I was need at the Smith-Zacharius residence, so I would have to find something to fill my time that wouldn’t remind me of Petra. I could try writing again, but any desire I had to work yesterday had evaporated with her phone call. 

Shit. Even trying to find something to do that didn’t remind me of her reminded me of her. This was hopeless. 

I slumped back into the couch. Maybe I should go to the gym? When was the last time I had been? A week? Two? I could use a nice run, or a turn with the punching bag. It would relieve some of this stress, at least. 

I had three hours until my sitting services were needed, more than enough time to get over to the gym, get a good workout in, and get ready. It would have to do. Resolving myself, I stood again. Prepared for the inevitable wave of nausea that would hit, I was relieved to find it was less intense than I had been expecting. I guess puking your guts up the night before has some advantages. 

That reminded me, I really needed to brush my teeth. 

###### 

I arrived at Erwin and Mike’s house five minutes after five. Five minutes late. I knew they wouldn’t mind; it wasn't like they weren’t going to leave for another twenty minutes anyways. 

“You sure you’ll be fine with them for the night?” Erwin was always the overly cautious one of the pair when it came to the kids, and tonight was no exception. 

“This isn’t the first time I’ve sat them alone.” I wasn’t sure what Erwin was getting at. His fears were always irrational though, I watched the kids all the time. Why would I suddenly not be able to handle them? 

“We’ll be back before ten. Try not to make them cry.” I rolled my eyes, the kids loved me for some strange reason. I wasn't sure I could make them cry if I tried. 

“Enjoy your date.” That came out much more sarcastic than I meant it to. 

“You sure you’re fine?” 

“Just peachy.” Apparently the circles under my eyes were darker than normal or something, prompting Erwin to feel the need to nag. 

Finally, they were gone and it was just me and the terrors. 

Honestly, though, they were the easiest kids I’d ever met. I never liked kids before I met these two. Never wanted a family of my own, either. But just maybe I could see myself being a father if my kids were half as great as Farlan and Isabel. Petra didn’t necessarily agree with me about that though. 

What had I told myself about thinking about her? I had to focus on keeping children from killing themselves. I needed my wits about me. I couldn’t go and depress myself before the pizza even arrived. 

I forced the thoughts of her out of my head for what I hoped would be the final time that evening and tried to focus on the task at hand. Thankfully Erwin had ordered for us before he and Mike left, so tonight was really going to be low effort. 

I let the kids choose some shitty kids show they loved to watch while we waited for the food. I paid it little attention. It was your typical children’s program: colorful characters with squeaky voices and a simplified moral message. Not exactly my idea of good entertainment but then again I wasn’t six years old, so what did I know? 

I watched the two of them from my spot on the couch. They were so engrossed in the action on the screen, I envied them. I wish I could go back and be their age again when I had nothing to worry about; no deadlines to miss, no students to annoy me, no girlfriend to make me feel alone, no shitty brats to confuse me. Life is so much simpler when you’re a first grader, or even better, a preschooler. 

My phone buzzed in my pocket, breaking me from my thoughts and alerting me that I had a text message. 

FROM: Zoe  
Delivered: 5:42 PM  
_Are you with my babies yet?_

I swear she couldn’t leave me alone for more than a few hours at a time. 

TO: Zoe  
Delivered: 5:43 PM  
 _Why?_  


FROM: Zoe  
  
Delivered: 5:43: PM  
 _Let me come over!_  


TO: Zoe  
Delivered: 5:44 PM  
 _Did you clear it with Erwin and Mike?_  


It took her a few moments to respond. I knew she hadn’t, she had been banned from babysitting, even with supervision, after a particularly interesting incident that involved knives, one of Izzy’s dolls, and one very concerned neighbor. 

FROM: Zoe  
Delivered: 5:46 PM  
 _And if I say I haven’t?_  


I chuckled while typing up my reply. 

TO: Zoe  
Delivered: 5:47 PM  
 _You really need to ask?_  


I pocketed my phone and stood to grab a drink. The cartoon wasn’t really doing it for me. After quickly locating Erwin’s finest whisky, which I poured into the most discreet cup I could find, I returned to the couch where I felt my phone vibrating from deep within my pocket, apparently this conversation wasn’t over. 

FROM: Zoe  
Delivered: 5:50 PM  
 _You’re no fun._

Immediately, I typed a response. 

TO: Zoe  
Delivered: 5:58 PM  
 _Being fun isn’t in my job description. ___  


At least she was distracting me from the dumb cartoon playing on the television. It had a talking dog that was best friends with a talking cat, which was absolutely ridiculous even for a kids show. I couldn't believe the kind of garbage we subject our newest generation to. No way would my kids be allowed to watch this garbage. If I ever had kids, of course. It wasn't like that was a "when" kind of statement to be making. 

I looked up and the credits from the episode were already playing. Weren’t they just getting to the climax? Stupid kid’s shows and their ridiculously easy plots. I could probably write better television than this. Maybe I could switch careers, abandon teaching children and take up creating mind-numbing television for them instead. There was no way that would end badly, no way at all. 

FROM: Zoe  
Delivered: 6:01 PM  
 _So how was your meeting with your mysterious, adorable student yesterday? That was about the only thing you wouldn’t spill last night._  


All I had wanted to focus on last night was getting fucked up, it’s no wonder I was tight lipped about my meeting with Eren. 

TO: Zoe  
Delivered: 6:02 PM  
 _Why would I tell you?_  


FROM: Zoe  
Delivered: 6:02 M  
 _Because you are just dying to gossip?_  


It was like she didn’t know me at all. 

TO: Zoe  
Delivered: 6:04 PM  
 _Goodnight, Four-Eyes_  


FROM: Zoe  
Delivered: 6:04 PM  
_LEEEVVIIII_

Good god she could be annoying. I considered offering her a tidbit of information, just so that she would just leave it well enough alone. It wasn’t like there was anything juicy to share anyways. All we did was talk about history. 

TO: Zoe  
Delivered: 6:05 PM  
 _We talked for a couple hours, it was good. He’s got a good handle on the material._  


I settled on something sufficiently neutral. 

FROM: Zoe  
Delivered: 6:06 PM  
 _OH MY GAWD SHRIMPY You really like this kid, don’t you! You should invite him on our next outing, maybe you’d be more agreeable ;)_  


Stupid Hanji, always so quick to overreact. I didn’t like the kid, he was good for a nice conversation on my favorite historical period, that was it. 

FROM: Zoe  
Delivered: 6:07 PM  
 _AND DON’T YOU DARE TRY TO DENY IT._  


Well, okay, maybe I liked the kid a little. 

TO: Zoe  
Delivered: 6:08 PM  
 _He’s a student, Hanji. I can’t be inviting him to hang out. It’s inappropriate._  


FROM: Zoe  
Delivered: 6:10 PM  
 _OHMYGAWD_  


Before I could reply, she was calling me. After ensuring the brats were engrossed in the next episode, I reluctantly picked up already knowing I was going to regret hitting the 'accept call' button. 

“What?” I was answered with the signature Hanji squeal of delight. 

“You didn’t even try to deny it! What did you boys talk about? You don’t like anybody - well anyone that isn’t me, Erwin, Mike, Moblit, or the kids. And even then you have to take us in small doses. 'A couple hours'? You talked to this kid, alone, for more than five minutes?” She was squealing again and I was already feeling exhausted; the small dose of Hanji I could take was already almost up today. 

“We talked about history, what else. Yes, I like the kid. I like people, it isn’t that big of a revelation, shitty Glasses. Would you **please** calm down.” Another squeal before I heard her taking deep breaths into the receiver as if to acquiesce. 

“Not like this you don’t.” She finally got out at a more reasonable decibel, though the level excitement hadn't been dialed back in the slightest. And I hated to admit she kind of had a point. 

“We share similar interests is all.” 

“Mmmhhmm” 

The doorbell rang, prompting the kids to jump to their feet, chanting that the pizza was here. Oh to enjoy the little things in life, when was the last time I was excited about pizza? Never? 

“Time to go, Glasses. Pizza man is here and the kids need to eat or it could get dicey. I've got no more time for your bullshit.” 

“This conversation isn’t over” She warned before I could hang up. Yes, it was over. 

I paid the pizza-man and fed the kids. It truly was a low effort night, my favorite kind of night. I endured a few more hours of children’s entertainment, and several rounds of Go-Fist before it was finally nine and I could put them to bed. With the kids gone I was once again left alone with my thoughts. That wouldn’t do, so to cure the situation I made my way into the kitchen to find that bottle of whiskey again. I poured myself another glass – my second? Or third? I couldn’t really recall, but it didn’t matter much either way. 

I slumped on the couch, slamming the bottle on the coffee table in front of me. I probably shouldn’t be drinking; I was in charge of the monsters after all. But I didn’t want to risk being alone with my thoughts without the aid of liquor at the moment. I had been working hard to keep my head empty of them all day and it was exhausting, I needed a bit of liquid assistance. It was another forty-five minutes and three glasses of whiskey before Erwin and Mike returned, deep in conversation about something I couldn’t quite catch. Were they talking about me? I thought I heard my name? Was that Hanji’s name, too? 

“Levi?” Erwin was calling my name from the kitchen. I answered him with a non-committal grunt as I tried to stand unsuccessfully. 

I saw the blonde pair enter the room in my peripheral and took a deep breath, focusing all my strength on getting off this damn couch so they wouldn’t worry. It didn’t work. I was able to successfully push myself up, but my legs didn’t seem to get the memo about standing and immediately turned to jelly beneath me, causing me to wobble, barely keeping from giving out entirely. 

“You’re drunk.” It wasn’t a question, nor was it an accusation. Just a mere observation. “What is this, the seventeenth night in a row, Levi?” How could he possibly know that? Was he spying on me? Did he bug my apartment? I wouldn’t put it past him. 

“Wha’sit to you?” Oh God, I really was drunk. I could hear my words slurring as they passed my lips. Had I really had that much to drink? 

“You’re supposed to be babysitting our kids.” I caught his eyes dart to make contact with Mike's for a split second. “And we’re worried about you. All of us.” I scoffed. 

“’m fine. A'n I waited til they were 'sleep to raid your liquor, scou's honor” I mocked a salute, bringing my first to my chest. 

“That’s hardly the point, Levi.” 

“Then wha's the point, Eyebrows?” I bit back, the words coming before I had a chance to think them. 

“What if something happened? What if Izzy woke up with a nightmare, or the house caught fire, and you were here passed out drunk? Then what?” I could hear the anger swelling in his voice as it rose. I looked over at Mike, but he was refusing to make eye contact. 

“I would've handled it.” I tried to argue, but somewhere under the hazy layer of alcohol I knew he was right. 

“Levi, Hanji called us about last night – “ 

“What bout las'night?” I demanded, if Hanji had a fucking problem she could well enough come say it to my face and not talk shit behind my back to Erwin. I'd given her plenty of opportunities so far today. 

“She said you seemed…off?” Off? What the fuck was off? 

“I don’ have'to put up with thishit.” I muttered, pushing past them. My feet didn’t let me down this time and I was able to make it to the door. I fumbled with my keys in the driveway briefly before giving up in a fit of rage and hurtling them back at the front door. 

Id just walk back home. It was only ten miles; I ran that regularly. It would be no problem. 

###### 

It was a problem. 

I got about six miles before my thoughts started to wander back to Petra. Would she really call me Monday? Would she really want to see me? Was there any way to fix what was broken about our relationship? Or was it too late? Did I even want to fix things at this point? 

Why was she stringing me along? I should just go out and find someone else that would make me happy. Someone who didn’t have to pretend to share my interests, or pretend they liked me. Someone with teal eyes, maybe? And broad, tan shoulders. And long legs. 

_Holy shit_ where did that thought train come from? That was dangerous, I couldn't let my mind wander there. At any cost. I needed another drink, or ten. There were plenty of watering holes in this part of town to choose from, and I stumbled into the nearest one. I couldn’t be alone with my thoughts anymore, they couldn’t be trusted. If I wasn't careful they'd betray me and I'd end up doing something I really regretted. 

I did my best to keep from stumbling towards the bar that lined the far wall of the nameless building I'd wandered into and ordered myself a gin and tonic, and then another. Finally, irritated that the more stubborn thoughts refused to leave me be, I abandoned all pretense and ordered a shot of the cheapest whiskey they sold. It would be quicker that way. 

Why was she doing this to me? Why was my life falling apart? This was supposed to be my prime, I was supposed to be working my dream job, married to my dream girl, enjoying my thirtieth year surrounded by my family and whatever friends would put up with me. Why was I miserable? Why wasn’t this alcohol working? Why was I still thinking about her, about how much I hated my existence? 

I ordered two more shots of whiskey and downed them, no longer able to feel the burning sensation of the cheap alcohol as it slid down the back of my throat. It seemed like a good idea at the time. At least it helped me push the thoughts of Petra from my head once and for all. Unfortunately, they were quickly replaced with disorganized thoughts of Eren: Why was he so interested in me? What drew him to me? I wasn’t anything special, there were far better experts out there on the subject than me, with far better credentials, and far more experience. Why did he have to go to Titan? Why did Shadis have to give him my paper? Why did he have to transfer to Sina? Why did he have to take my class? Why did he have to be so fucking attractive? Why couldn’t I get him out of my head? Why did his hair look so soft? Was it as silky as it looked? Would he let me touch it if I asked? 

God, I was pathetic. All it took was one student to show a minute interest in what I studied and suddenly I was obsessing over him. It was infuriating. 

I tried to order another shot to help expel the thoughts of Eren from my head, finding them more aggravating than even those of Petra. If only I could drink until I killed every last brain cell. Then I could finally live in peace. It would be perfect. Though the bartenders had other ideas, and the fuckers finally decided I'd had enough, cutting me off before I could get that last shot I so desperately needed. Who were they to tell me when I’d had enough? I knew my limits! How many had I had so far? 6? Surely I could handle another shot or two. Fuck them, this was nothing. I’d just find another bar that would serve me. 

Or better yet, maybe I could make it home without thinking anymore now? That would be perfect. I still had a bottle of bourbon waiting for me at home, it would be hell of a lot cheaper than wasting my money on these dickbag bartenders. 

That settled it, I would go home! I just had to stand up long enough to walk the remaining four miles back. That proved to be easier said than done, as my legs didn’t seem to want to cooperate and I quickly found myself on the floor, leaning against the bar. Maybe another shot would help the situation? 

No, that was dumb. I had to get to my feet so I could get home. No more time for shots here. 

I forced myself to my knees, determined to at least get out of the fucking bar so I could catch a cab home. Baby steps. 

Finally, I was on my feet! Success! I knew I had it in me! And a wave nausea hit me like a ton of bricks and I found myself on the ground again. Why was it always the ground? 

“Yo, buddy, you need a hand?” Who was that? Who was trying to talk to me, I couldn’t see them? Where were they? 

“No.” I tried to say firmly, but it only came out as a mumble. I waved them away instead, pushing myself up to my feet once more. This time I made out the door before my knees gave way and I was reacquainted with the ground. Concrete this time, which was somehow worse and I felt a dull throbbing in my hip even through all the alcohol. 

Fuck, now walking was out of the question. And I struggled with how I was going to get home to my bottle of bourbon now when the best idea I'd had since those last shots struck me. Hanji. She would know what to do, Hanji always knew what to do. I wrenched my phone from my pocket and scrolled violently to find her contact information, hit send, and waited. 

It took a few rings before she picked up. 

“Levi? What’s wrong?” She sounded frantic, I mustered a chuckle to try to show that everything was all right. 

“Nothing. I’m stuck.” 

“Levi? What was that? What’s wrong? I can’t understand you?” Stupid Hanji, what did she mean she couldn't understand me? I was speaking English still, yeah? 

“I’m stuck.” I spoke slower anyways, so she could understand me better. 

“Where are you? I’m coming to get you.” Why did she sound so freaked out? Was Moblit doing something weird on the other end? 

“Bar. Maria Street and uuummm” I looked around, where was I? I realized I had no idea where I even was. “Something.” 

“I’m coming. Hang on, Levi. I’ll be five minutes, okay?” I managed a hum in response. I could wait five minutes. It wasn’t like I could go anywhere, my shitty legs refused to work. 

She managed to find me despite my horrible directions. Finally. I had started to get bored and my thoughts were starting to wander to dangerous places again, I couldn’t have that. I needed that bottle of bourbon and soon. 

“Oh my god, Levi. What happened?” She parked her car by the curb and lept from the passenger seat, racing across the concrete to where I lay waiting. 

“Nothing.” Was what I tried to say and she was already lifting me off the ground, propping me up with her arm. 

“Let’s go. You look like shit, how much did you drink tonight Levi?” Why was she still asking me questions she knew I couldn’t answer? I tried to shrug, but only ended up knocking myself from her grasp. 

Well hello, ground. Long time no see? 

“Why do you keep doing this to yourself?” What was that supposed to mean? Wasn’t she on board last night? “Last night was one thing, but all week? I knew I should have said something to you earlier. But no, I had to pretend like everything was okay. I thought it would be okay.” Was I missing something. 

“What?” It came out more like a questioning grunt than a fully formed word. 

“Last night, you told us you’d been drinking more, you said it'd been over three weeks since you'd spent more than one night in a row sober. You were bragging about how high your tolerance has gotten in the past couple of months. You don’t remember telling us that?” That explains how Erwin knew. I was too talkative when I was drunk. “And now tonight you go and practically pass out in the street. We’re all worried about you.” That is what Erwin said. They were in cahoots, it all made sense. 

“I’m fine.” I tried, suddenly irritated but not really sure why. There had to be a reason, I just couldn't remember. By some miracle she understood what I was trying to say this time. 

“No, Levi. You aren’t. You need help.” 

“No, I don’t.” I mumbled defiantly, trying to force her away so I could prove it to her and she sighed in frustration, strengthening her grip on my waist before dumping me into the passenger seat of her car. 

“Please, let us help you? I know you’re upset over Petra, but this is no way to handle things. You’re scaring us.” I tried to scoff but ended up vomiting out the window instead. 

###### 

By some miracle I woke up in my bed. My head pounding, and my back sore, but I was home. My phone and wallet were on the table beside me, proving somehow I hadn’t lost anything overnight. That included my memories. 

I pushed myself off my bed carefully, waiting for the nausea to hit me. It came slowly and sat low in my stomach, at least I wasn’t going to puke again. That was a plus. Probably the only one. 

I made my way to my kitchen, feeling like I could drink an entire swimming pool. I needed water before I choked on my own tongue. 

“He lives.” Hanji croaked from the sofa, seems she hadn’t left me during the night. 

“You’re still here?” I croaked right back, my throat still sore from all the vomiting I'd done the night before. 

“I needed to make sure you didn’t die on us in the middle of the night. Alcohol poisoning is no joke, Levi." 

“What about Moblit?” I questioned, pouring myself a generous glass of much needed water. 

“He understands.” I’m sure he did, the man was a saint. 

“He wasn’t worried about you driving the streets at night looking for my sorry ass?” 

“He’s more worried about you. We all are Levi.” She stretched, throwing her shoulders back and turned to face me with a pained expression. 

“Yeah, I recall you saying something like that.” I muttered, refilling my glass. 

“Please, let us help you.” she pleaded, and I sighed heavily. 

“There is nothing to help. I’ll be fine.” I was sure I didn’t sound convincing and Hanji didn’t look like she was buying it. 

“Let me and Moblit take you out to lunch today. Come hang out with us if you can’t be alone.” I wasn’t sure I could handle more Hanji. But then again, I really did not want to be alone with my thoughts again. 

“Fine.” She stood up off the couch and made her way to the kitchen. 

“I have to go home, but we’ll pick you up at noon. Okay?” I nodded my agreement and poured myself another glass of water. I watched her leave from my spot at the sink. This was going to be an even longer day, I decided. 

I needed a shower. Immediately. I could smell the bar on my clothes still, apparently Hanji hadn’t been able to get me out of my jeans or shirt before I collapsed into bed. At least she got me into bed at all, I guess. I owed her one. 

I checked my watch before shedding it so I could get clean. 

11:07. I had just under an hour until she would be back for me. 

I stepped into my bathroom and turned on the shower to let it warm up. I always took quick showers: Military Showers, as some called them. Five minutes maximum, though I tended to hover closer to three on average. It was something I picked up being a military brat. Old habits die hard, as they say. The uncle that raised me, Kenny, had been an army officer and insisted I have a strict military upbringing. I resented him for years for it, but some of what he drilled into me had its benefits. Like quick showers - my water bills were impossibly low. 

I slipped out of my grungy clothes and into the warm water feeling the grime from the previous night wash away. I hated feeling dirty, it was one of my biggest irritants. The feeling of being clean was second only to orgasm for me and even though they were short, showering was the best part of my day. I finished my normal routine, allowing myself a few more minutes than usual to scrub myself down a second time, and stepped out of the shower into the foggy bathroom. 

My phone vibrated from its spot on the counter and I walked over to check it, wiping away the layer of condensation to check my texts. I should still have had at forty-five minutes to get ready, so if Hanji needed something it must have been important. 

FROM: Zoe  
Delivered: 11:38  
_Twenty minutes! You better not bail!_

Wait, it was 11:38 already? Where had the fifteen extra minutes gone? I was in and out of that shower in no more than five. I know I was. 

It had to be all the alcohol, I really had been going overboard lately. Maybe I should cut back a little, if it was effecting my memory. Or maybe it was nothing, I didn’t want to overreact. Either way, I had to hurry. My timeline was now cut in half and I’d prefer to avoid the trouble I’d be in if I wasn’t ready by the time Hanji and Moblit pulled up. 

###### 

Hanji chose a pub for lunch. For someone worried about my recent alcohol intake she sure wasn’t doing much to help her cause. I took advantage of our location and ordered myself a beer with lunch, having decided that I merely misread my clock earlier. It was the only logical explanation. A few weeks of excessive drinking was not enough to cause short-term memory problems. 

Hanji and Moblit didn’t like it, and they let me know, nagging endlessly about how they were worried about me, and that I needed to keep better tabs on how much I was drinking. However, I maintain that If they didn’t like it they should have just chosen a better place for lunch: somewhere that didn’t have twenty beers on tap, perhaps? 

Lunch didn’t last long, I wasn’t feeling particularly talkative and Hanji was visibly upset with me. I should have apologized; she did come rescue me the night before, after all. But I couldn’t’ find it in me. What I did with my time, and what I put into my body were my own decisions to make. Even if I had been the one to call for a late night pick-up. 

By the time they dropped me off at home it was close to two thirty, and I was alone with my thoughts again. The silence was violent around me, and the only thoughts that came to mind were those of Petra, and the brat. I couldn’t take it anymore. It wasn't a half hour before I gave up and found the bourbon that I had been so keen on getting my hands on the night before. I hadn’t been in any shape to enjoy it then, but I sure as shit was now. And, oh boy, would I enjoy it today. 

I settled in at my desk, maybe I could get some writing done. That could get my mind away from places it really shouldn’t go, which would mean I wouldn't feel the need to go so overboard. Realistically, I knew it wasn't likely to do any good. And in the end, I just ended up downing half the bottle of bourbon while I stared angerly at the screen in front of me. Typical. 

My mind was back on Petra again. Why couldn’t I just forget about her? My life would be so much better if I could just move on, find someone new. I just needed to tell her what I was feeling, then maybe I could finally get some peace. It would be one less thing that plagued me. 

My alcohol ridden brain had the perfect idea. 

Call her. 

Just call her. 

Tell her it’s over. You’re sorry, but this isn’t working out. 

It’s been over for weeks, months even. We needed to stop pretending. 

I called her. 

It wasn’t my best decision - in fact, on the list of worst decisions I’ve ever made it would probably rank in the top three. But after a half bottle of Bourbon I wasn’t exactly thinking the clearest and to my alcohol inhibited mind, calling her was the most obvious decision to make at that moment. 

“Levi?” She answered on the sixth ring. Like she had been contemplating whether or not to pick up. 

“Petra.” I could hear how drunk I was, and in the back of my head I knew this wasn’t going to end well. 

“I told you I was busy this weekend. Can I call you back tomorrow? My flight leaves in thirty minutes.” Now. I needed to do this now. Now, or I wasn’t sure I would have it in me to do this later. 

“No. It can’t wait.” Were those tears again? I rubbed at my face. Definitely tears. 

“What’s wrong? Have you been drinking?” Even the concern in her voice didn’t sound genuine. 

“We’re done, aren’t we.” 

“Levi, don’t do this now. This can wait.” 

“No it fucking can’t, Petra." My throat felt raw. I was screaming at her. I inhaled deeply, trying to calm down some. "You know it, too. We needed to talk about this weeks ago.” She sighed. How could she be this calm? 

“Levi, please?” and so patronizing. Fuck. 

“No. This can’t wait. I’m so done with this bullshit, Petra. I need you to stop stringing me along. We’re done. We’ve been done. I know it, you know it. Why keep pretending?” I scoffed through my tears, it was so obvious and yet neither of us had been able to say it until now. Why did I have to get ass backwards drunk to even get close to working up the nerve to saying what be both knew? 

“Because I love you.” _Liar. I can hear it in your voice._

“You have a funny way of showing it.” 

“I’m sorry I didn’t say yes, but you knew how I felt. Why did you even ask me after we had that talk?” She was going to try to pin this on me, now? Seriously? 

“Because I loved you, I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.” 

“Loved?” 

_Yeah. Loved._ “Why didn’t you just say yes?” It came out closer to a whine than I hoped it would. 

“Levi, please. We'll talk when I get home. Just drop this for now.” 

“No!” I was yelling at her again. I was so done with this. So very, very done with this. “We need to talk now.” _We needed to talk weeks ago._

“I’m in the middle of an airport, Levi.” 

“Petra, I don’t think we can be together anymore.” Silence. There was only silence. For what seemed like forever I sat and waited for her to respond. 

“Okay.” That was it? No fight? Nothing? She wasn’t going to protest, put up a fight, yell at me? Anything? 

“Okay?” I choked out, I was holding back sobs. Fucking alcohol. Fucking emotions. 

“I’m sorry” and then she was gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dark, dark, dark. I told you it was going to get dark. And it isn't going to get light for oh, I don't know, a couple more chapters? Abouts there. Sorry for the lack of Eren, he'll be all over the next couple I promise!
> 
> Thanks for reading!  
> Much love,  
> RG


	5. The Sixth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time is dead as long as it is being clicked off by little wheels; only when the clock stops does time come to life.  
>  (William Faulkner)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So so sorry this is late! Blame it on law school, they were extra sadistic this week. I'm trying to post a chapter every week and I barely got my chapter for Sorry up on time! I meant to have this up a few days ago, but for some reason I found this chapter hard to write. I'd been looking forward to getting to this part of the plot, once it actually got here I didn't know what to do. But the fifth chapter is finally here! Hope you like it!

The next morning, I woke with my stomach in my throat. Unbearable nausea crashed over me as I kicked the sheets off quickly in order to make a mad dash for the toilet. Somehow, I made it within striking range before the food I had eaten in the last twelve hours vacated my stomach. 

_Gross._

It was my own fault, though. Last night got out of hand fast. Had I really called Petra and told her it was over? It didn’t feel real. Had I really fallen asleep crying again? I flickered my eyes to the mirror hesitantly, not really sure I wanted to see what I looked like at the moment. 

It was worse than I'd prepared for. I was a mess. My skin looked pasty and nearly translucent, only emphasized by the contrast with my dark hair that was sticking up wildly in all directions. My eyes were sunken more than normal, their usual, dark bags doubled in size. Not to mention they were bloodshot and puffy. Just fucking perfect. I splashed myself with some cold water, knowing that wouldn’t really help anything. Trying not to dwell on my appearance too long, seeing as there was little I could do to remedy it at this point. It was what it was. Instead, I stripped down and stepped into the shower letting the cold water wash over me as I tried to let go of everything that I had been getting to me so far this semester. 

Work. Class. My students. The green-eyed brat. Petra. 

It didn’t really work, my head still swirled with dangerous, negative thoughts as I drew my shower to a close. Despite my best efforts, my mind slowly drifted to my conversation with Petra and I felt a pinch of anxiety in my chest. I told her it was over, and she hadn’t tried to hold on to me. She let me go, just like that. Was that really what we had come to? Did our five years together mean that little to her? Was it that easy to let me go just like that after so long? 

Why was I still stressing over this? It was over, I should be relieved. I could move on, focus on being happy. Why did I feel so miserable still? 

Maybe I needed a drink, that could help. It usually did. 

I stepped out of the shower and quickly dressed myself. I would have to go back to work today. Back to classrooms that smelt of decaying books and dust. Back to students that either loathed or were afraid of me. Back to the confusing green-eyed brat that, for whatever reason, seemed to like me and my work despite everything. I sighed, switching on my coffee pot before popping some pain killers for the migraine I could already feel building. My eyes trailed across the counter, right up to the bottle of bourbon I had left sitting out before I finally crashed. 

There was only about a quarter of the liquid left in the bottom now, most of it being banished from my stomach earlier this morning. 

Before I could think too hard on it I grabbed the bottle and deposited a healthy serving into the bottom of my travel mug before I poured the fresh batch of coffee on top, watching the dark liquids join together as physics handled the mixing for me. Hopefully this would help vanquish the negative thoughts from my head, or at least take the bite out of my hangover. 

My first class of the day would be my only respite from the green-eyed brat, and it already felt weird to not see his obnoxious, smiling face in my front row. It had been less than a week, but I was already getting used to the idea of someone actually caring about what I got up to say every day. Until this semester, I never had a student give a damn about what I taught, much less about what I studied. It was an odd sensation, actually sharing an interest with a student, and I was still getting used to the idea. But I couldn’t say that overall it was a negative experience, if not totally baffling. 

I arrived on campus a little later than I should have, forcing me to rush straight to my first class, just adding on to the perfection that was this dreary, cold Monday morning. At least most of the fucking snow from last weekends storm had already melted. 

Class went smoothly, though I couldn’t help but feel a minuscule sting of disappointment that the green-eyed brat wasn’t there. It was odd, this feeling. I couldn’t really describe it. I’d known the kid only for a few days and already his presence was making teaching a little less painful. Knowing someone actually cared about what I had to say seemed to make this whole professor bullshit a little easier. 

During my lunch hour I found sweet relief from Hanji and her concerned looks. She had a meeting or something, I hadn’t really paid attention when she called to inform me, and I was able to, for once, enjoy my lunch in relative peace.

Unsurprisingly, I got no further on my book after finishing my sandwich. I tried not to dwell on it, dwelling would only increase my stress levels and the pick-me-up I'd added to my coffee that morning was already starting to wear off. Besides, it wasn’t like I could do anything about my lack of motivation. I’d already tried everything. 

Before I knew it, it was already time for my last class of the day. 

I arrived in the large lecture hall with nearly eight minutes to spare, plenty of time to set up my computer and get settled before having to explain the incredibly droll evolution of battlefield technology to eighty brats. 

I had just pulled up my presentation and turned on the projector when I noticed the light suddenly dimming above me. I looked up, my eyes meeting a vast green ocean, and realized I was standing in his shadow. 

“Jaeger” I acknowledged him. 

“Will you be in your office after class, professor?” Was it just me, or did his smile not seem as wide, or his eyes not as bright? Part of me wondered if everything was okay with the kid, the other wondered why I cared. He may make teaching my annoying classes a little more bearable, but it wasn’t like I was invested in his personal well-being or anything. 

“Office hours start at three, you know that.” I replied plainly. 

“Think I can stop by again today?” His brow furrowed, like he was concentrating hard on something. 

“That’s what office hours are for, aren’t they?” 

“Good.” For some reason it didn't sound all that good. 

Class carried on as usual. The vast majority of my students paid me little mind as I prattled on about the introduction and impact of airborne technology. There were times where I would sit back and reflect on my life, wondering if any of this was worth it. Obviously my students didn’t seem to get anything out of this, and I sure as hell didn’t. If it weren’t for the ten years I had sunk into my degree, I might actually entertain the idea of switching professions. 

I let my eyes drift down to the front row to catch a glimpse of the tan brat in his usual spot: front and center. But I wasn’t met with his intent stare. Instead, the boy was looking off into the space to my left. I flicked my eyes to follow his gaze. There was nothing of note taped to the wall, so I concluded that he must be lost in thought. Which was strange. He didn’t strike me as the type that thought deeply very often, especially not in class. Everything I had seen so far indicated that he was more than interested in what I had to say in my lectures. Up until now he had been more than attentive, practically hanging off every word that came from my mouth. 

Something was definitely up with this kid. I had only known him for a few days, but today he was suddenly quiet and pensive. Even I could see that was not normal after the short time he had been sitting in my front row. 

Whatever. I couldn’t worry about that now. I brushed the mystery off and got back to my pointless lecture. He was an adult, he’d handle it himself. I had my own problems to deal with at the moment. 

Maybe I should keep a better eye on him, though. If it got worse then maybe I’d say something. I don’t know how I’d sleep at night if the kid was actually depressed or some shit, and went and offed himself, me having sat here saying nothing despite noticing it. 

His eyes slowly turned to face front, briefly meeting mine before gazing sheepishly down at his notes. 

Okay, something was definitely wrong. Going off what I’d seen thus far he wasn’t they type to get upset easily, and the thought of the bright-eyed brat being down made me uncomfortable. It left a bad taste in my mouth, and a general sense of foreboding hanging over me. 

I tried not to think too hard about it and focus on getting through the lecture. If it persisted I could always ask him about it in my office later. 

I paused my lecture for a moment in shock, realizing what I was thinking. Had Hell froze over? Was I actually showing concern for a student? Maybe I shouldn’t have spiked my coffee this morning, it was clearly messing with me. I brushed it off and continued speaking, noticing that none of the students seemed to observe my respite. Not even Eren had detected it, it seemed. 

Class finally wound down and I dismissed the students. I expected Eren to swing by my podium on his way out the door to exchange words, as he usually did, but he barely acknowledged me with a wave as he sped out of the room. I heaved a sigh at the sight, this was worrisome. Hopefully he recovered in the next hour, or office hours were going to be awkward today. 

Slowly I packed up my things and shut down the computer, my mind stuck on the curious case of the green-eyed brat. I wasn’t even sure why I was so troubled by this, it wasn’t like me to take an interest in anyone, much less a student. 

I moved from my spot at the lectern and griped the door’s cool, metal handle, pausing for a second to reflect on why I cared so much about what was affecting the brat, before I pushed the door in and stepped out of the classroom. 

The first thing I noticed was that I had not stepped out into the hallway. 

I, in fact, had stepped into my office. My head whipped around, taking in my surroundings. Had I teleported? I walked out the door to the classroom and stepped through the door to my office. I was all the way on the other side of campus less than a second ago. How had I ended up here? My head snapped up to look at the clock. 

2:34. 

I stared at the ticking disk that hung on my wall for a moment in silence. That was not possible. Class ended at two, I hadn’t spent more than two minutes packing up. I was missing a whole thirty minutes, which was twice what I needed to walk back to my office. Was I still drunk? What the fuck? 

Thinking back, I seemed to recall a couple discrepancies over the past few days. A shower that was longer than it should have been, a few lapses in my memory. How long had this been going on? Was it getting worse? What was happening to me? Was it all the alcohol? I was sure I wasn’t drunk; I was stone-cold sober despite the bourbon in my coffee this morning. 

I felt myself starting to panic. This wasn’t normal. Something was wrong. Was I dying? Was I going insane? 

I tried unsuccessfully to calm myself down before slipping my phone from my pocket and hitting Hanji’s contact information. She would know what the fuck was happening, she studies brains for a living. She could help, I was sure of it. My hands shook as I tried my damnedest not keep freak out as the phone rang. 

One ring. 

Two rings. 

Where are you, shitty Four Eyes. Pick up. 

Three rings. 

Come on, Hanji. Pick up your damn phone. 

Four rings. 

Where the hell is she? 

Five rin- 

“Levi? What’s wrong?” Oh thank god. Never before had I been happier to hear her voice. 

“I have a quick hypothetical for you.” Despite attempts to preserve my normal, calm and collected tone, I could hear the panic swelling in my voice. 

“Okay?” She sounded concerned, but I brushed it off. 

“If someone told you that they thought they were blacking out in the middle of the day, what would you say to them?” 

“Have you been drinking again?” I could tell she was only half joking. 

“This is fucking serious, shitty Glasses.” My voice was getting away from me; the composure I was struggling to maintain cracking ever so slightly. 

“Is everything okay, shorty?” Finally, she sounded appropriately concerned. 

“Just answer the fucking question.” Composure was completely abandoned in favor of sheer panic as I yelled at her; I was sure I was dying. This was it for me. Only thirty years old, and already a goner. 

No. I needed to calm down. I’m sure I’m not dying. I’m sure this is nothing. I clenched my free hand, trying to curb the panic inadequately. 

“What happened?” her voice dropped an octave as her tone morphed. Hanji being serious would never cease to freak me out. 

“I don’t know. I was leaving the classroom, next thing I know I’m walking into my office and I’m missing a whole half hour.” 

"You blacked out for a half-hour?” 

"Yes.” 

“You’re sure?” 

“Yes, fuck. I’m sure. I opened the door to the classroom at two, and walked right into my office and the clock says it’s 2:30.” 

“You’re sure you’re not drunk?” 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Hanji. I’m fucking sure.” 

“You should see a real doctor; I don’t know how much help I can be.” 

“Hanji I swear to God.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, of all times for her to start saying she wasn’t a real doctor, she had to pick now. She sighed heavily into the receiver, as if contemplating what to do with me. 

“Is this the first time it's happened?” 

“Yes. I don’t know. It’s the first time I’ve noticed.” She was silent for a long moment. 

“It’s probably nothing, most likely all the stress from work. The alcohol could be a contributing factor, but if you say you’re sober right now I don’t think it would be affecting your memory like this while not in your system. Have you had any head trauma recently?” 

“No." 

“It could still be a tumor or a brain bleed, I suppose. I don’t know, I’d have to run some tests.” 

“Absolutely fucking not.” There was no way I was letting Hanji fucking Zoe poke around in my head. I heard her sigh again, this time in exasperation. 

“Do you have any other symptoms, then?” 

“No.” At least none that I could think of. I hoped this was it, I don't know if my mental state could take another stressor. 

“Well, then I’m sure it’s nothing big. If it persists, then we can run some tests on you. But for now, just try to relax. Take some deep breaths, or do some yoga, or something. Oh and lay off the alcohol, I’m sure it isn’t helping.” I scoffed at her response, but somehow felt a little reassured. At least she didn’t seem too worried about it. 

“I have to go.” I checked the clock again. I had fifteen minutes until office hours and I was sure the brat would show up not a second past three again. 

“Just take it easy, okay. If it happens again, let me know.” I considered just hanging up on her at that point, but thought better of it. 

“Thanks.” I muttered and was treated to a giggle in return. 

“I think this is the first time you’ve ever shown me any gratitude. I’m marking today in my Best Friends scrapbook.” I didn’t respond, instead choosing to end the call then and there. While Hanji’s words had reassured me that I likely wasn’t dying, and the panic had subsided for now, I still couldn’t help but feel like I was losing my mind. Was I going insane? Was my brain trying to tell me lay off the liquor some? 

After a few minutes of standing in my office like a dumbass I finally took a seat in my chair, sinking back into it slowly. This was going to be a long week. I checked the clock again, a bit nervous about another blackout, but was calmed a bit to see that it was still only 2:55. No more black outs, and the green-eyed brat would be here in five minutes. 

Thinking about office hours reminded me of his odd behavior in class. Looks like we were both having bad days. I couldn’t help but wonder if he would still be down when he showed up, or if whatever was bothering him would have passed. The thought of a quiet, passive Jaeger felt almost wrong. The kid was young and bright; sickeningly upbeat at all times. Seeing him look so out of it had struck some kind of chord, it made me nervous. On edge, almost. I’m sure it only added to the stress that probably caused my blackout. 

My door opened, disrupting my train of thought. My eyes flickered to the clock on the wall, it was 3:01. Right on time, a least he wasn’t that out of it. 

“Professor?” He inquired, pushing my door in. At least he sounded like he was in a better mood than earlier. 

“How can I help you, Jaeger?” I spun in my chair to face the door as he entered. 

“I was just hoping we could have another discussion about the Colonial Wars. I really enjoyed our talk last week.” If it was anyone else, about any other topic, I probably would have glared and told them to get out. But, honestly, I had enjoyed our talk as well. And it wasn't like I had anything better to do. 

“Take a seat, what did you have in mind?” 

We talked for a while about history, picking up right where we left off last time. There was no awkward interlude as he got comfortable before jumping into what he actually wanted to discuss. He definitely seemed to be in a better mood than he had an hour ago, whatever had been eating at him appeared to have resolved itself. I found myself to be a bit relieved at the discovery. It meant that our talk would be more entertaining. 

After a solid hour of discussing battle tactics and political motivations our conversation started to deviate. It wasn't even clear how we ended up there, or when the conversation made a turn, but before long we found ourselves on a tangent similar to Friday. 

“Do you like being a journalism major?” I wasn’t sure what made me ask, I wasn’t sure why I cared. It was so out of character for me. Hanji would have a field day if she knew about this. 

“It’s fine, I guess.” He shrugged, playing with the drawstring on his hoodie.. 

“Don’t you think you should be doing something you enjoy?” 

“I need to get a job after I graduate, you know.” I scoffed at that. 

“And what job do you expect to get with a journalism degree?” I wasn't just being deprecating. Shockingly, I found myself actually curious about the kid’s life. I genuinely wanted to know where he saw himself in the future. 

“I want to be on the ground, reporting from war zones and stuff like that.” I raised my eyebrow at his answer. I honestly wasn’t expecting that response. “If I can’t actually study wars, maybe reporting on them would be a good substitute.” I found myself shrugging a response. 

“Sounds interesting, at least.” And it honestly, truly, did. It was a good back-up plan, even I had to admit. 

“Yeah. My sister isn’t too happy about it though. She says it’s too dangerous, and that I should try to get a job at a news station around here.” I recalled mention of this sister last time; the one who convinced him to drop history. Already I didn’t like the chick. 

“She sounds irritating.” 

“She can be, but she means well.” Again, I scoffed. “She just worries about me; she likes to pretend she's my mom.” 

“Don’t you already have one of those?” If I remembered correctly, his mother was still alive. 

“Yeah, but she’s not really in any shape to mother me much." his smile faltered, and I could feel a pit forming in my stomach. This was obviously a subject I should steer as far away from as possible. "Mikasa kind of adopted that role after my dad left us.” Shit shit shit. Definitely needed to steer away from that. 

“Oh.” Perfect. A+ social skills, Levi. Fucking brilliant. 

“Yeah. It’s fine though.” I didn’t believe him for a second. I noticed his ears pinking a bit, which only fueled my initial assessment. 

“If you say so.” 

Silence hung between us for a long moment. I tried not to let it get awkward, but that seemed impossible. I had nothing else to say, even though I desperately needed to change the subject; We had to get away from this dark topic. 

“So did you like Titan, while you were there?” He was trying to change the subject himself, it was painfully obvious; The segue wasn't exactly smooth. But I couldn't have been more thankful. 

“Loved it. Didn’t want to ever leave.” Relieved at the change in subject matter, I let my body relax, leaning back in the chair further. 

“So why did you?” While I was glad for the shift in subject matter, I wasn’t sure how I felt about where this was headed. I wasn’t that comfortable talking about myself with even the closest of my friends. But for some reason, the anxiety that normally swelled up when the topic was broached was absent now. 

“My girlfriend got a job out here right after I finished up my degree. I chose to move with her.” 

“Oh.” Was that disappointment that I saw flash across his face? “Was it worth it?” That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it? I had confronted that same dilemma often since making the move. How would my life have been different if I had chosen to stay behind in Shiganshina? If I had gotten a teaching fellowship with Titan College, instead of finding an associate professorship out here? Ended my relationship with Petra after only two years, instead of dragging out another dismal three? Maybe I wouldn’t be so miserable if I had stayed. Maybe I would be happy still. 

I didn’t really have an answer for the kid, not a satisfying one at least. So I peered up at the clock, thankful to see it was now past 4:30 and I could kick him out. 

“Office hours are up, Jaeger. Time to get out of my office.” I had never seen him look so dejected. My chest clenched ever so slightly and I sighed in defeat. "I don’t know if it was worth it. I’m still working on that.” Thankfully, he perked up a bit after receiving an answer. 

“I’ll get out of here, then. I’ll see you tomorrow in class.” He gave me a small wave as he pushed himself out of the plush chair. 

“See you tomorrow, brat.” I mumbled, returning his wave half-heartedly. 

###### 

Instead of immediately heading home, I remained in my chair, deep in thought. 

Why was I so curious about the brat’s personal life? What was he to me, if not just a strange student that took a mysterious interest in me? It was out of character for me to show concern for anyone outside of Isabel and Farlan, perhaps. Maybe he reminded me of them? 

No, that wasn’t it. Aside from his enthusiasm and inexplicable admiration for me, he wasn’t much like the kids. Absentmindedly, I pulled my secret bourbon stash from my desk drawer and took a small swig. What was wrong with me? Random blackouts, asking another human being questions about their life, getting so worked up about a student. It was all so strange. 

I was pulled out of my thoughts by a soft knock on my office door. Who could it be at this hour? Quietly, but hastily, I shoved the bottle back into its drawer before they could push the door in. 

“Levi?” Oh fuck no. You had to be fucking kidding me. 

“Petra?” My voice cracked slightly as I tried to dislodge the lump that had formed in my throat. Why was she here? What did she want? I had ended it. It was over. She couldn’t be here. I couldn’t deal with this. Not today. 

“I thought I’d find you here. I think we should talk.” So she waited twenty-four hours before making an attempt? Really? 

“I can’t. I don’t have time.” I just needed her to leave. I didn’t want to see her, much less hear what she had to say. This was over, it needed to be over. I needed this to be over. 

“I’m sorry.” I didn’t want to hear it. Was that what she had come all this way to tell me? I didn’t respond, pretending to be absorbed in packing my things to leave. “Levi, please. I’m sorry.” Was she? She was begging, whether to get me to talk to her or forgive her I couldn’t tell. “I never wanted to say no. I’m sorry. Why did you even have to ask?” Forgive her it was, then. 

“You’re really doing this?” I grumbled, tossing a random book into my bag with a huff. I couldn’t believe her. What did she possibly expect to get out of coming here? 

“Just because I don’t want to get married doesn’t mean we can’t be together.” Actually, that was exactly what that meant. “You knew how I felt about marriage before you asked, my answer shouldn’t have come as such a shock.” She was right there, it didn't come as a shock. It came as a fatal blow to our relationship. 

Maybe she was right, maybe I should never have asked her. Why had I even asked her in the first place? All these months later and I was having trouble remembering entirely. We had discussed the topic in the past, I knew she had watched too many marriages fall apart to ever want to be a part of one herself. I had agreed early on; my opinion of marriage hadn’t been much higher than hers when we'd met. But watching Erwin and Mike, and Hanji and Moblit, something changed. I began to want what they had. 

“I just wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. What’s so wrong with that?” There should have been more venom in my voice, but I couldn't find it in me. I was barely holding on as it was. I could feel the tears of frustration pricking at the corners of my eyes. I wouldn't cry, not here. Not in front of her. I couldn't bear that blow to my stupid, disintegrating pride. 

“You still can.” No, it was far too late for that. Her suggesting it proved how delusional she really was. We'd hadn't had a proper conversation in three weeks, hadn't spoken in person for over a month. This had been over for much longer than either of us wanted to admit. 

“Do you really believe that?” Her hesitation told me all I ever needed to know. “It’s over Petra. You know it as much as I do.” My heart clenched in my chest as I finally looked up from my hastily filled bag to meet her reddened eyes. 

“I don’t want it to be over.” I could hear the sobs she was holding back choking her words. “I didn’t think you would actually – I didn’t want us to actually -" she stopped herself, unable to finish the thought, but I understood what she was trying to get across. 

“You really should leave.” I couldn’t help but want to go to her, to wrap her up and tell her everything was going to be okay like I had done so many times in the past five years. But I couldn't this time. This needed to end, doing that would just drag this dead relationship on further. And that was the most painful part of this whole thing. I clenched my fists as my sides, feeling the bite of my nails into the clammy skin of my palms. 

“I’m sorry.” She inhaled shakily, doing her best to hold everything in, and it was obvious she expected this conversation to go differently. Maybe she never thought I’d actually gather the courage to end it if I had to face her in person. Maybe she thought I wasn’t serious when I told her it was over. Maybe she hoped she could convince me this didn’t have to end. No matter what she expected coming here, she was leaving empty handed. 

“Me too.” I heard her choke back a small sob in response as she quickly pivoted and hurried out of my small office. 

It was over. It was really over. 

For some reason it hadn’t hit me until now. Blame it on the alcohol, or the fact that I hadn't done the initial deed face to face. But now it truly felt real. Me and Petra were done. For good, most likely. I couldn’t see us ever fixing this. 

I should have been happy; it should have been a weight lifted off my shoulders. 

So why did I still feel like shit?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys. There it is. Chapter five. I hope you liked it!
> 
> I'm a feedback-slut. I love myself some comments, so please. Leave them. I will love you long time.
> 
> Thanks for reading!  
> Much Love,  
> RG


	6. The Seventh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Men talk of killing time, while time quietly kills them.  
> (Dion Boucicault)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, these chapters take a lot out of me. Depressing shit is emotionally draining to write. I'm on break for the next week, hopefully that means I can get another chapter or two up before it's over. But after this, expect them to come more like every other week. That's the pace I'm finding myself at. Balancing two fics on top of school and work is more difficult than anticipated.
> 
> I told you, I apparently love pain as much as I love dishing it out. Sue me.  
> Also, I'd love to thank everyone for the support! This fic passed 1,000 hits and 100 kudos after chapter 5! Which is great! So thank you to everyone who reads, and a huge shoutout to everyone who comments or gives kudos. You guys rock :)

I didn’t go home that night. 

I couldn’t find the motivation to get myself out of my chair. I spent the rest of the night guzzling the rest of the secret stash from my desk and crying over Petra. I couldn’t help it, but I missed her already. I wouldn’t ever get to hold her again, wouldn’t have her comfort me after a hard day at work. Wouldn’t have her to bounce ideas off of for my book, or for my lessons. Never wake up to her cooking me breakfast in her pink apron, or have her kiss me goodbye on her way out the door for work. 

It was really over now. 

The forecast called for snow today. 

It just couldn’t get any more miserable. 

I should be feeling better now. Why did I still feel like this? Like I was a pathetic waste of carbon and oxygen? Like nothing in this world would ever make me happy again? I didn’t regret breaking it off with Petra. At least, I didn’t think I did. We were going nowhere; we weren’t the same people we were five years ago. Or, at least, I wasn’t the same man I was five years ago. I couldn’t be who she wanted me to be, and she couldn’t be who I wanted her to be. I knew that. I knew this was for the best. 

Then why is it that all I wanted to do was call her and tell her I didn’t mean it, that I was too hasty. Maybe we could work this out after all. 

I knew we couldn’t, we had tried already. We had spent over a year trying - well, arguing – and we got nowhere. Why did I still want her? Why was I still feeling like this? I was still lonely, I still hated my life, I hated Sina. I hated my job, I think I even started to hate history. 

I rolled that thought around for a brief moment. 

No. It hadn’t gotten that far yet. But, if the green-eyed brat hadn’t come and relit that fire inside of me, it would have been only a matter of time. That much was obvious. 

After a half hour of wallowing, I forced myself to stand and get ready for my class. Just two more hours and I could get out of this hell-hole they called a university and drink the thoughts away properly in the privacy of my own home. 

I reluctantly made my way to the bathroom at the end of the hall to freshen up. Thankfully it was still early enough to be empty, so I wouldn’t have to explain the sight that greeted me in the mirror. 

I had thought today couldn’t get any more miserable. I was swiftly proven wrong. 

I looked like a dead man walking. My black hair was slick with grease, clearly in dire need of being washed. It refused to lie flat, instead clumping awkwardly into spike like appendages. It was made worse by the buzzed layer of my undercut that was nearing the point it looked ridiculous, I’d have to remember to stay sober long enough to trim it once I got home. My skin was pasty and nearly translucent, contrasting harshly with the layer of dark, shadowy stubble that graced my normally clean-shaven face. I made me appear almost ghost-like. The worst of it, though, was my eyes. Ever since I was small, no matter what I did, the skin beneath them always retained its dark tint. But today, it was as if I hadn’t slept in a week. The whites of my eyes were streaked with red, bloodshot and still a little watery, the bags beneath them prominent and deep. I looked like I aged ten years over night. 

Well wasn’t this just fucking perfect. 

I splashed my face with cold water, and tried my best to wet my hair down. But it was all in vain. I still looked like a mess. I slid my suit jacket off and rolled my sleeves up, hoping no one would notice I was wearing the same shirt as yesterday. Even if they did notice, I’m sure the only person with the courage to actually say anything was Hanji, and luckily she was busy all day. We would miss our usual lunch date again, and I could easily escape campus before she had a chance to corner me. There would be no opportunities for her pointed looks and concerned tones. 

I gave up trying to improve my appearance any further, it was futile. Instead, I walked back to my office and threw my suit jacket in the empty chair, exchanging it for my thick, wool overcoat and a pair of gray gloves. I wound my navy scarf tightly around my neck, preparing for the cold. Hopefully the snow would hold off until I could get home. 

I checked the clock on my wall. 

9:54. 

I was running late. Shit. At this rate I would barely have time to set everything up before I would have to start lecturing. Could nothing go my way today? 

At least the snow seemed to be holding off for now. That was the only bright spot so far, and even then it was practically swallowed by the massive shadow cast by the overwhelming foulness that was the rest of today. 

I entered the classroom, breathless with my cheeks numb from the cold. I would have to remember to wrap it tighter next time. I arrived with a little over a minute to spare, but I couldn’t resist flickering my eyes across the front row to check for those aquamarine orbs. I found myself overcome with satisfaction to see his smug mug sitting front and center, right where it belonged. 

Finding myself running out of time to set up, I couldn’t grant myself a moment to ponder just where the hell that thought had come from, or what in all God’s name made me think the brat “belonged” in my front row. Rather, I hurried to get my slides up. I couldn’t waste any more time. 

Despite my rushed start, and the fact that almost nothing seemed to be going my way today, class went smoothly. I got through all my slides, and there were no disruptions. I even seemed to retain more than 50% of the classes attention through to the end. I could always chalk it up to the fact that it was an upper level class, and they tended to be more invested in the content than their freshman counterparts, but I chose to take the win. Never look a gift horse in the mouth, I believe is the way the saying goes. 

As was becoming routine, before I could make my escape back into the wintery hellscape that awaited me outside I found myself staring at a broad chest, clothed only in a baggy gray sweatshirt. 

“Aren’t you freezing in that?” I stated plainly, refusing to look up at him. 

“What? Oh, um, no?” It seemed I threw him off by striking first. 

“Wear a real jacket, you’re an embarrassment.” I continued my routine of shutting down the electronics and packing my materials away, wondering how long it would take him to recover and get on to whatever he had come to talk to me about. 

“I’m first on the waitlist, now.” Luckily was on the ball today so I didn't wait long. 

“I hadn’t noticed.” It wasn’t like I checked my waitlists every night after a few glasses of liquid courage or anything; Or that I already knew that the green-eyed brat moved up five spots since Thursday. 

“I’m sorry, I know it must suck to lose students like that. But I’m just so excited to be in this class.” Finally, I spared him a glance. He was smiling like an idiot. Or was it that he was an idiot smiling? I couldn’t tell the difference. I ignored the warm feeling I was pretty sure I was imagining that worked its way into my gut at the sight and tried my best to remain impassive. 

“I still can’t figure out why. I’m nothing special, kid.” Was he laughing at me? I didn’t think that was particularly funny. What a strange brat. 

“I’m sorry, you just really don’t seem to get it, do you?” 

“Guess not.” 

“So, no office hours today?” 

“Nope.” 

“Damn, I guess I’ll just have to wait until tomorrow then.” 

“It would appear so.” 

“You know, you’re a really interesting guy professor.” I shot another glance at his face, intending to strike him down a few pegs with my harshest glare. But the look on his face melted my motivation completely. What was that look? Was that pity? No, I was familiar with pity. This was something else I wasn’t entirely familiar with. It was close to the looks I sometimes got from Isabel. Admiration, maybe, but more than that. Not bewilderment, nor was amusement. It was certainly in that ballpark, though. 

Fucking strange brat and their strange facial expressions confusing me. 

“Whatever.” I grumbled, pushing past him to escape into the hallway. I heard him chuckling behind me, apparently satisfied with the response he had gotten. 

“See you tomorrow, Professor.” I would have replied, but I was already rounding the corner. The blustery courtyard outside was much more appealing than remaining in that room with the confusing green-eyed brat a second longer. 

###### 

I fully intended to leave campus immediately after my class. Instead, I ended up sitting in my chair for another half hour, listening to my stomach growl. 

Should I get something to eat? I should probably get something to eat. I hadn’t eaten in nearly twenty-four hours, thanks to a certain, special visitor. The only thing remaining in my gut by that point must've been the alcohol from the night before night. Surely that couldn’t be healthy, I was surprised my stomach had been as settled as it was. Did I even have any food at home? I wasn’t sure. It must have been at least two weeks since I’d made a trip to the store. 

I wasn’t willing to risk it and decided to eat before making my escape. With that, I found myself walking into the town off campus in search of food. I had no desire to brave the dining halls alone. They were too obnoxious and I risked losing my temper with some brat without Hanji there to ground me. Despite Sina being a larger city, the options within walking distance of campus were severely limited. Not that I was particular about my food, so long as it was edible and prepared in a clean environment I was happy, and yet that already disqualified most of the restaurants that dotted the main street that bounded the edge of campus. 

Dirty pizzerias, questionable delis, and worrisome bars lined up in a row. Each and every one of them disgusting in their own special way. Hanji always said I was too hard on them; they weren’t that bad. But that was hardly the point. Just one look at the grime on the counter, or the rings on the tables told me all I needed to about what kind of establishment I was in. The few places around that were up to my hygiene standards were mostly corporate chains, or sport’s bars that catered to a larger crowd than just college students. I wasn’t a fan of sport’s bars. I never cared for sports much to begin with, and the bars were usually loud and filled with rambunctious fans. Not to mention their food was typically sub-par and often greasy. 

More often than not I stuck to the sad corporate chains with their corporate standards that I knew could be trusted. Hanji never missed an opportunity to tell me just how boring I was every time I refused a trip to the greasy pizzeria on the corner, or the Greek deli that had a shit record with the health department. I didn’t mind, as long as she let me enjoy my “uninspiring” lunch choices without too much of a fight. 

But the sub shop Hanji had been insistent I try with her the other day, surprisingly, had been different. It was clean, I had noticed immediately upon entering. And the subs were creative, and actually pretty good. It was quickly added to the list of places I could waste my hard earned cash on a meal in this stupid town. So that is where I found myself, alone this time thanks to Hanji’s meeting that was so freaking important. Two days in a row now she had missed lunch. While I enjoyed the quiet her absence provided, being alone more wasn’t exactly something I was mentally prepared for. 

Still, at least I wouldn’t have to watch her maul her sub like a wild animal this time. 

As I approached the clean, white counter top I gave the menu a once over. Quickly I decided on the tuna melt, a change of pace from my usually preferred turkey club or BLT. Thankful that the biggest question I was going to have to answer today was “for here or to go?”, I settled into one of the large metal chairs at an empty table to wait for my bag. 

I found myself lost in my thoughts almost immediately, and for once they weren’t completely negative: A mental scolding of Hanji for leaving me hanging for the second time this week, a pondering over who came up with the idea for the tuna melt in the first place, a query as to how many more students would drop my classes before the end of the drop/add period next Friday – my bet was on three from each class. I’d already lost ten in my lecture-hall, four in my Monday morning class, and five in the class the green-eyed brat was so insistent he would get into off the wait-list. Looks like he was going to be right, and he seemed rather smug about it already. 

The thought should have bothered me more than it did. Under normal circumstances the proposition that I would lose four or more students in all of my classes in under a week would be irritating at best. But, for whatever reason, despite the confusion he caused me, I found myself grateful that he would continue staring up from the front row for the whole semester. 

It was the strangest thing, this relief I felt every time I saw his oceanic eyes and chocolate mop sitting there in front of me, listening intently. It was irritating, that feeling, but I wasn’t going to try to dwell in the reasoning behind it. My train of thought took another detour; Had my mind really wandered back to the green-eyed brat again? I had been finding that happening more often recently. What was this strange infatuation? It wasn’t conscious, it wasn’t like I was trying to spend all my time thinking about him. It just seemed to happen. 

It wasn’t like I was going to complain, though. At least I wasn’t thinking about Petra anymore. 

“Professor?” I was abruptly snapped from my thoughts by a smooth, familiar voice. 

“Jaeger?” As if he was summoned by my thoughts, the tall brunette entering the sub shop had somehow escaped my attention. 

“Where is Professor Hanji?” He had noticed I was alone, wasn’t that just perfect? I didn’t need him thinking I was some pathetic asshole whose co-workers hated him, even if it was mostly true. 

“She had a lunch meeting, I’m afraid I’m on my own this afternoon.” 

“I see.” He was shifting his weight around, eyebrows knitting together for a brief moment as a thought passed through that thick head of his. “Do you want some company? All of my friends have class, I was planning on eating alone.” Did I want company? I only had to ponder the question for two seconds. 

Of course I did. Being alone with my thoughts, even now when they weren’t giving me too much trouble, was still a terrifying proposition. At any moment things could sour, and I could start doing something stupid. Like thinking about yesterday. 

But then again, he was a student. And a perplexing student at that. Did I really want to spend more time with him than necessary? Not to mention I didn’t care to make him force himself. Despite our two successful conversations in office hours, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I would just be burdening the poor brat. I was a miserable son of a bitch, and I didn’t need to be dragging anyone else down with me. And I’m not entirely convinced eating lunch with a student is strictly professional, anyways 

“I’m sure you have better things to do than eat lunch with your professor.” 

“No, not really. We can talk about the Shifter Genocide some more; I didn’t get to ask you about all the things I meant to last time.” There he went, sucking me in with the proposition of a riveting discussion. It was as if he knew, despite my best attempts at hiding it, that I enjoyed our conversations as much – no, it was likely more – than he did. 

“Well, I suppose I don’t have anything better to do.” I tried my best to sound disinterested. I was such a sucker. 

“Great. Just let me order my lunch.” I watched him practically bounce over to the counter to place his order. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was actually excited about spending his lunch hour talking to me. It was something that never ceased to bewilder me. How he could get so pumped about the proposition of spending an extended amount of time with me. Even Hanji and Erwin got irritated with my “attitude” after too long. Hell, even Isabel and Farlan could get fed up with me after a while. But this kid didn’t seem bothered after two hours of non-stop “bad vibes” flying his way. If anything, he appeared eager for more. Was that even possible? It hadn’t been so far. No one could put up with me endlessly. But maybe…. 

No. I couldn’t let that thought progress any further. He was my student. You can’t be friends with a student, that was clearly an ethical violation on several different, but equally appalling, levels. I couldn’t let it get that far. I wouldn’t. Office hours were one thing, where my large, official desk made our roles as professor-student clearly and unmistakably defined. But here, over a much smaller, much more intimate table? It could easily be mistaken for something friendly, or worse. 

“Make sure to get it to go, Jaeger. We can eat in my office.” I called after him. I wasn’t prepared to sit here with him and chat like friends did. Like he was something more than just a student I had taken an interest in. It was entirely unprofessional; I was already spending enough time with him as it was. I didn’t want anyone to get any ideas, especially not him, and start thinking I was playing favorites or anything. My career was still just beginning; it couldn’t suffer a blow like that this early on. 

I didn’t want to deny him outright, because honestly the prospect of another hours long talk with him about the wars was practically irresistible at this point. Our previous attempts had been too enthralling. He knew almost as much as I did, and his insights were fresh and compelling - unlike some of my colleagues, or the professors who had taught me. His perspective, though sometimes painted with the naivety of youth, was untainted by the antiqued establishment. And I was wholly and unequivocally grateful for that, for him. But I wouldn’t let whatever was between us develop past this. He was just a student, and I was just his professor. We couldn’t be friends. 

As I came to this resolution I was hit with a pang of disappointment. I quickly suppressed the suspicion that I would very much like to be friends with this teal-eyed brat. It wouldn’t do, it was impossible at this point. Maybe after the semester ended, when he wasn’t my student anymore. Or in a year, when he graduated. Maybe. My disappointment was slowly being replaced with apprehensive anticipation at the thought. 

Thankfully, I was pulled from my roaming thoughts by a call of my name. I retrieved my sandwich from the employee and settled back into my seat as the teal-eyed brat approached, his order placed. 

“It should only be a few minutes. Sorry for making you wait. You can just eat here, if you want.” 

“Don’t be. My office is better for this anyways.” Better to make the distinction between us clear, to draw the line more obviously. Student and professor, pupil and superior. 

“Sorry for earlier.” 

“For what?” 

“I thought I pissed you off. You know, after class.” He did? 

“You didn’t.” It wasn’t a lie. I wasn’t pissed at him. I was more flustered than anything else. I still wasn’t entirely sure how to handle him, I was still wildly unfamiliar with admiration from a student, or from anyone that had just escaped the diaper wearing phase in the last two years for that matter. How to deal with him and his confusing compliments was still beyond me. 

"Good. I’m glad. I’m glad your letting me crash your lunch hour, too.” He was? 

“You are?” 

“Yeah, I mean, I miss studying history. A lot. It’s nice to have someone I can talk to about it with.” 

“I see.” 

“Yeah, my sister doesn’t get it. She thinks it’s a dumb field. My best friend, Armin, is a bit more understanding. But he’s more on Mikasa’s side when it comes to stuff like what I should be doing with my life. He’s the science oriented type.” I grunted in acknowledgement, wondering slightly how we got back to the topic of his life-story. 

“Mikasa's studying criminology. She thinks it’s so much more applicable than history.” I couldn’t help but scoff at that. “Exactly my point!” A new discovery: I didn’t even have to say anything and he would carry on like it wasn’t a one-sided conversation. “So I’m kind of glad that there is someone who gets it. I don’t normally go ask my professors for conversations about stuff like this, especially if it’s not on the exam. But I don’t know, I just couldn’t resist after meeting you. It probably doesn’t help that I’ve been practically obsessed with you since I read your thesis.” 

“Obsessed, huh?” 

“You already knew that.” He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding looking in my direction. Stupid strange brat. 

“I guess you did say something to that affect before.” 

Finally, his name was called and we could leave both the sup shop and this irritating line of conversation behind. 

###### 

Much like our previous conversations regarding historical topics, this one was turning out to be much longer than anticipated and the natural flow of our exchange gradually drifted away from history. How he didn’t tire of me would forever remain a mystery. 

"So, why the Colonial Wars?" He asked after swallowing the last of his sub. I had been asked this question numerous times over the years. Why did I choose to devote myself to an almost useless part of history, one that had been irrelevant for centuries? No one was ever satisfied with my response. 

"An old family legend." 

"An old...family legend?" He seemed just as confused as everyone else when they heard. "What kind of legend?" 

"That my family is descended from the Acker Clan." My reasoning was met with a thoughtful silence. "My uncle told me about them as a kid. Said we were descended from the famous warrior clan that was responsible for protecting the Colossal Emperors. He gave me a book on them when I was young, I was hooked immediately." 

"Are you? Descended from them, I mean?" 

"Who knows." 

"Weren't they mostly wiped out right after the Wars ended?" 

"Something like that." Another thoughtful silence. 

“I’m part Shifter, you know.” 

"Yeah?" 

“Yeah, my great-grandparents immigrated here before my grandmother was born, but my dad is half-Shifter.” 

“Interesting.” 

“Yeah, we don’t really have much connection to the genocide or anything, since it was so long ago. But my grandmother told me a ton of old Shifter legends growing up. A lot of them from the Colonial Wars era. That was probably the biggest reason why I got so into them as a kid.” So we were the same, then. Interesting. 

“There are other reasons?” 

“Huh? Oh yeah. I don’t know, something about a good underdog story that really gets me going, if you know what I mean?” I knew exactly what he meant. Before I had a chance to respond, he was checking the clock on the wall. 

“I have a class in fifteen minutes. I really should go.” 

“Wouldn’t want you to be late.” 

“Yeah. Thanks for everything, Professor Ackerman. I’ll see you in class tomorrow?” He asked, as if I had a choice. 

“I don’t know where else I would be.” 

“Great, have a good night then.” And with a wave and a small smile, he disappeared out my door. 

I slumped back into my chair, eyes glancing at the clock. 

1:46. 

We had spent over an hour and a half talking again. What was that, the third time in a row? And what was this good mood that I was suddenly in? I didn’t even feel the pulling desire to get out of here as fast as my legs would carry me. No, rather I felt this sudden burning urge to pull up my book and write. Something about our stirring talks that always put me in this kind of mood. I chose not to fight it, or even question why, fearing if I delayed it would dissipate again it would be another day closer to my deadline spent being unproductive. 

So instead, I pulled a thick book off my shelf and dove in. 

It was amazing what simply talking to an equally passionate person could do for my attitude. The thoughts swimming through my head weren’t about my shitty life, or about how much liquor I had back in my apartment for once. They were about the political ramifications of a battle that took place hundreds of years ago. 

For the first time in months I felt motivated. It was exhilarating. 

The feeling lasted for hours before it tapered off and once again I found myself losing focus. I tried desperately to hold onto the motivation, but it was no use. Within two hours, it was gone and I was again staring at the computer screen blankly. 

Endlessly frustrated, I slammed the book shut and shoved it back into its place on the shelf. I had written just over two pages of solid material, more than I had in months. But I was still astonishingly short of where they wanted me to be in just over two weeks. Why did this keep happening? I didn’t understand. I obviously still loved what I was writing about, hell I had just spent over an hour talking about it with the teal-eyed brat. Why in all Hell’s name could I not seem to sit and write for more than two hours at a time? Why couldn’t I get my thoughts on paper? 

I knew I was running out of time, I knew the consequences of not finishing. I could get fired over this, or at least put on suspension. Not churning out publishable materials was a fireable offense, as far as my bosses were concerned. I had been at Sina for two and a half years years, and it had been just under two since the last time my name had appeared on the tag-line on anything worth putting out into the world. If I didn’t get this finished, there would be hell to pay. And my job was likely going to be the first casualty. 

So why was I just sitting here, staring at my work, when I knew what could happen? When I knew what was riding on this. I hated myself for it. If I could just force myself to write something, anything at all, then there wouldn’t be a problem. My life would be that much easier. 

What the fuck was my problem then? 

I had been searching for an answer for months and come back with nothing. 

I stood up from my desk, completely sickened with myself. I was pathetic. This was incomprehensible. I couldn’t be on this campus anymore. I couldn’t dwell on my lack of motivation anymore. I needed to get home and settle down with a nice glass of scotch. Did I still have that bottle I bought a few weeks ago? That wonderful aged single malt I’d bought on a whim? I don’t think I’ve touched it yet. A glass or two of that sounded perfect. It would be just what I needed. 

I glanced at my clock: 

3:51. Late enough to leave without causing any concerns. 

I shrugged my coat onto my shoulders and pulled my scarf tight around my neck. I silently prayed for the day that it got warmer, but that was still months off. Maybe all the bad in my life would disappear with the cold, I couldn’t help but hope. My life always seemed that much worse during the winter months. Maybe come spring things would go better for me? 

It didn’t seem likely, but a man could dream. 

The snow had started since I returned for lunch. 

Fucking perfect. Reluctantly, I stepped out into the falling flurries and whipping wind. Frosty gusts bit into my face and I pulled my scarf up to cover my nose. This was miserable. How could people actually enjoy this? The cold was bad enough without being assaulted by a practical blizzard. 

Finally, I reached my car. I sunk my hand into my coat pocket to search for my keys, the cold metal bit into the skin of my fingertips as I fumbled around trying to find the unlock button. After a brief struggle I threw the driver’s door open and tossed my bag roughly into the passenger seat. 

I took a moment to get settled before I reached up to stick the key in the ignition, only to find it was already there. Slowly, the low rumble of my car’s modest engine settled into my ears. The car was already on? 

I glanced up, confusion overwhelming me, as I found myself staring at the wall of the apartment complex’s garage. 

Panic started to set in. 

No. Not again. Fuck no. This couldn’t be happening. 

I check the clock on my dash. 

5:02. 

Fuck. 

It happened again, another black-out. And longer this time. 

It was getting worse. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry Levi :( My poor baby :(
> 
> Hope you liked it!  
> Much love, and remember: Comments are love, comments are life!  
> RG
> 
> PS: [I have a Tumblr, now.](http://rglass.tumblr.com/) I'm new at this. So please be nice :)  
> 


	7. The Eighth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old Time, that greatest and longest established spinner of all!.... his factory is a secret place, his work is noiseless, and his hands are mutes.  
> (Charles Dickens, _Hard Times_ )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was weird for me. Because (1) I left Chapter 6 on a cliffhanger so I chose to pick up where I left off in the last one, which means this is the first chapter I've written for this fic that doesn't begin with Levi waking up in the morning hungover. And (2) Because I split 6 the way I did (to avoid an 8,000 word chapter), I already had a solid 1/4 of this chapter written already. Which means that just over 48 hours later I'm posting again! It's strange, haha, and don't get used to it! Hopefully this chapter meets your guys' high standards, it's a long one! :)
> 
> Hope you like it!

It happened again, another black-out. And longer this time. 

It was getting worse. 

I tried to move, tried to get out of the car. Tried to do anything. 

I was paralyzed. 

Why was this still happening? I had gone all day without another blackout – more than twenty-four hours had passed since the last one. Why were they still happening? Why were they getting longer? This one had lasted an hour. It didn’t take me an hour to get home, even in the worst traffic it only takes me thirty minutes. 

Oh God. 

Have I been driving this whole time? Where did I go? Why can’t I remember it? I didn’t have any errands to run. I should have just come straight home. How can I be missing a whole hour? How is this possible? 

There was definitely something wrong with me. I didn’t know what it was, but Hanji was crazy for not being worried. How could she just send me back out into the world like that, without a second thought? 

Was I dying? Was this a brain aneurism? Was I having a stroke? What the fuck is wrong with me? 

I willed my hands to move from where they were gripping the steering wheel, my knuckles felt stiff as they groaned into action, stretching to release the hard, faux leather surface. 

I needed to see a professional. I needed someone to tell me I wasn’t dying. I needed to see a doctor. 

I slid my phone from my coat pocket, ignoring the fact that my hand was clearly shaking. 

I don’t know the last time I was this terrified. Never, probably? 

Should I call an ambulance? Was this that kind of situation? Was this an emergency? 

Should I call Erwin? He’s good in crises; so calm and collected it can be scary. Do I really want him to know about this, though? 

Maybe I should call Hanji. She already knows about this, and she knows about brains. She could help me understand whatever the doctors have to say. But do I really want to subject myself to Hanji while in this state? And I’ve already relied on her so much lately. 

In the end, it really wasn’t much of a contest. 

“What can I do for you, shorty.” Thankfully she picked up on the second ring. 

“Hanji?” My voice was strained, and weak. Even I could hear how pathetic I sounded. 

“Levi, what happened?” Her voice immediately became weighted with fear. 

“I blacked out again. It’s getting worse.” 

“Oh shit.” 

“I think I need to go to the hospital.” 

“Where are you? Are you home.” I could hear her rustling around, then the jingling of her keys. Damn, dependable Four Eyes. I owed her endless favors after the shit I’ve put her through in the past week. 

“Yeah.” 

“I’ll be there in ten. Don’t move. It’ll be okay, Levi.” 

I didn’t respond. I wasn’t sure I would be able to if I tried. Instead, I sat in silence. Too afraid to turn my phone off. Too afraid that if I didn’t maintain that connection, I would lose more time. I was grateful that Hanji seemed to understand without me having to explain. She kept me on the line until she was pulling up to my building. 

“Are you in your room?” 

“Car. Garage.” Was all I could manage through the panicked stranglehold that tightened around my vocal muscles. 

“Can you come down?” Could I? that would require my body to give me back control of my limbs. 

“I’ll try.” 

“I’ll try to get up to you somehow.” She couldn’t get into the building without my keycard. Right. Shit, why didn’t that problem come to mind until just now? 

Fuck. 

I had to get down there. I had to move. 

I inhaled deeply, trying to push the paralyzing wall of fear back. 

Every fiber of my being screamed at me. _MOVE._

Slowly, I lifted my hand to the handle and forced it open. 

I had to get down to Hanji. I had to get out of here. I had to get to the hospital. 

It was if my fight or flight reflexes kicked in as I forced myself out of the driver’s seat and onto unsteady legs. 

“I’m coming down.” 

“I got into the elevator. I’ll meet you there.” How that woman managed to get past security would evade me. I guess the guys at the desk downstairs probably recognized her by this point. However she managed to do it, I was just happy I wouldn’t have to make it all the way outside on my own. 

One foot after the other, I pushed myself towards the elevator doors. My legs felt numb and weak, while my hands shook as I clutched onto my phone like if I didn’t it would evaporate into thin air. Or worse, I would black-out again and lose even more time. 

I watched the numbers above the door, only two more floors and Hanji would be here. 

I hung up the phone in anticipation, taking another deep breath to calm myself. It’s affect was negligible at best. 

The door in front of me dinged and then slid open mechanically revealing my troubled, bespectacled friend. 

“Are you okay?” Her voice was dripping with concern. 

“What the fuck do you think, shitty Glasses.” She cracked a small smirk, apparently encouraged by the fact I was still able to snap back at her even in this state. 

“Good. Let’s get you downstairs. Are you okay to walk?” 

“I’m fine.” I lied, stepping up to join her in the elevator. “Just get me to the damned doctor. Stress my ass. What the fuck is wrong with you, Hanji? Letting me walk around like this, telling me it was probably just a onetime thing. This shit could kill me! You of all people should know not to fuck around with brain trauma.” 

“Sorry, sorry. You just don’t have any other symptoms. I didn’t think it would keep happening. Have you been taking my advice?” No. I hadn’t. Maybe I really should have. Instead of answering, I only clicked my tongue at her as the elevator jolted into it’s descent. “That’s what I thought.” I couldn’t help but sneer at her. 

“Now isn’t the time, Four Eyes.” It really wasn’t. I didn’t need a lecture right now. I needed a medical professional. A legitimate, licensed, medical professional. 

###### 

Four hours had passed since I was hit with the realization that the black-outs were still happening. I had spent the past three and a half hours sitting and waiting in Sina Hospital’s ER, surrounded by sick kids, elderly people, and people too poor for health insurance. It was hell. 

I hate hospitals. The smell, the harsh lighting, the squeak of rubber-soled shoes on the ugly linoleum. Not to mention all the sick people. They were everywhere. Hospitals are practically an incubator for disease and infection, it’s all the staff can do to keep ahead of it. 

The last time I was in a hospital was when Kenny’s cancer took a turn for the worse, and that had to have been over six years ago now. Not that that was the reason why I hated them. Or that I hated them any less than I had then. And even if that hospital had been back in Trost, they were all the same. They all smelled the same, had the same feeling to them, that same aura of death hanging over them. 

I'll admit it: Hospitals make me nervous. 

Yet here I was, sitting in a small, sterilized room - with a cot, two hard, uncomfortable looking wooden chairs, and a man in a white lab coat scrutinizing a clipboard. 

“Are you sure you are over thirty years of age?” 

“Pretty fucking sure.” Hanji smacked my arm from where she sat next to me on one of those hard, uncomfortable, wooden chairs. Her expression told me to watch my language, but I was in no mood to even make an attempt to censor myself. 

“I only ask because we sometimes see similar symptoms in individuals who suffer from DSIS, Delayed Soulmate Introduction Syndrome. It’s doesn't normally manifest in black-outs, mind you. But it wouldn’t be the first time I’d seem something like this. Though, I’ve never seen it in an individual over twenty-six. It’s typically happens to patients within two years of their twenty-fifth birthday. The brain’s method of coping with the delay can take quite a toll on the body, and though once the inevitable contact is established the initial symptoms mostly disappear, the likelihood of serious, lasting complications increases exponentially with the age of the patient. Which is the the main reason I've brought this up. We wouldn't want to misdiagnose and have you end up with a more permanent condition. But with DSIS patients typically exhibit multiple symptoms, and you say your only symptom is the black-outs, correct?” 

“Yep. That's it.” 

“You aren’t experiencing heart palpitations, excessive sweating, or lung contractions? We’ve also seen DSIS in conjunction with skin rashes, or hallucinations. You’re sure you haven’t experienced any of these?” 

“Nope.” 

“Well, given your lack of other symptoms, your age, and the fact that your parents were not Soulmates I think we can pretty confidently rule out DSIS. So we shouldn't worry too much about it's lasting effects.” 

“Thank God.” He eyed me carefully, probably wondering what kind of person in their right mind would be thankful after being told they probably didn’t have a delayed soulmate still waiting for them this far past twenty-five. But I had already given up on that years ago. I just wasn’t destined to have a soulmate. There wasn’t a person out there that would love me unconditionally, that would let me love them unconditionally. That would be unquestionably drawn to me, and who would support and love me no matter what. 

I didn’t have a perfect match, and that was fine with me. 

“So, with that in mind, we have the results of your scans back. Would you like the good news, or the bad news first.” This fucking guy. What a damned cliché. 

“Whatever, Doc.” 

“Good news it is, then. From what we can see, you have no significant brain damage in areas of the brain that could cause this, or other disorders that would manifest physically that could be causing these black-outs. We'll need to draw some blood for further testing, but for now I'm pretty confident in saying this is a non-life threatening condition.“ I felt like a giant boulder had been lifted from my chest. I wasn’t going to die from this. Thank god. 

“The bad news?” 

“This is still quite a serious problem, only more so because we can't seem to find anything explicitly wrong with your brain. You say here that you don’t abuse any drugs, and you have no known pre-existing health problems that would lend themselves to –“ Before the doctor could finish, he was cut off by my worst nightmare. 

“Actually, Doctor. It seems Levi neglected to mention on his intake that he has been regularly abusing alcohol recently.” Fucking. Shitty. Fucking. Glasses. I didn’t abuse alcohol. What the shit was this ambush? 

“I see. How many glasses a night?” His question was directed at me, but he sure as shit wasn’t going to get an answer. 

“From what I have seen, five glasses a night minimum. But I’ve seen him drink three times that on weekends. I’d say he’s up to nearly forty drinks a week by now, if I had to make a guess.” I turned to glare at her. Fucking traitor. That didn’t mean I was abusing alcohol. It had been a rough couple of weeks, and maybe I’d been having a few more than I normally would. But it was fine. It wasn’t like it was causing me any trouble or anything. I was fine. 

The voice in the back of my head couldn’t help put point out that if I was, in fact, fine, then why the fuck was I sitting in the emergency room at nine at night, talking to a doctor about my troublesome habit of blacking out in the middle of the day for no reason? 

Yeah. I was totally fine. 100%. 

“I see. That is worrisome. You really should have mentioned this on your forms, Mr. Ackerman. This could be a large factor in why you are having this issue. I would recommend stopping your alcohol intake immediately. I am also partial to Ms. Zoe’s hypothesis regarding your stress levels. I could prescribe you an anti-anxiety pill, but I fear that if you aren’t able to halt your alcohol intake it could have an even worse effect on your health and mental state.” 

“Just give me the prescription.” I would stop, it wasn’t like it was that big of a deal. I’d find another way to keep my thoughts from becoming too overwhelming. There had to be a way. I couldn’t keep using this stupid crutch. 

They let me go a short while later, prescription in hand. 

“Please don’t drink any alcohol if you’re going to take that. I can’t believe he actually gave you the pills. Please, just try to be responsible about this. If not for your sake, then for ours?” 

“Yeah. Sure.” I stepped out of Hanji’s car and onto the icy sidewalk. 

“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call. Erwin too, you know he cares as much as I do.” There was no way in hell I was going to call Erwin for help. Hanji’s disappointed looks were barely enough for me to handle, but I couldn’t deal with Erwin’s. He was much better at it then Hanji. Something about being a dad did that to you, I guess. 

“Sure, Four Eyes.” 

“You should come to dinner tomorrow. We’ll invite Erwin, Mike and the kids. Have a family dinner. We’re all here for you, you know that.” 

“I know. Okay.” They always had been, and likely always would be. They were my first, and only real friends. And my only remaining real family. I couldn’t help but hate myself for putting them through this, all because I couldn’t handle my own, shitty, fucking life on my own. 

“I’ll text you the details tomorrow. Okay? For now, just get some sleep. And stay away from the liquor, okay?” 

“Yeah. Sure. Night, Specs.” 

“Night, Shrimp. Feel better, yeah?” 

“Yeah.” And with that, her car pulled away from the curb and I was left alone again. 

Fuck. 

###### 

What was wrong with me? 

Why did I keep doing this to myself? 

Why was I so weak? 

All perfectly valid questions that I found myself repeating as I slumped over my spotless, porcelain toilet bowl purging the comments of my stomach at seven am. 

Just don’t open the bottle of scotch. Leave it on the shelf, forget it’s even there. Just go to sleep, and the bad thoughts will evaporate. It’s that easy. 

Turns out it wasn’t that easy. 

Which is why after an hour off tossing and turning, unable to sleep, I had thrown myself from my bed and downed half the bottle of beautiful, single-malt scotch I had been saving. Which is why at seven am on a Wednesday morning I was rapidly being reacquainted with it. Which is why, for the first time in three years, I was late for my first class. 

By some miracle I arrived on campus in one piece and stumbled my way to my classroom. 

9:05. 

Five minutes late. Fuck. 

I said a brief prayer of thanks that the green-eyed brat wasn’t in this class, so I wouldn’t have to face him this early. I couldn’t deal with him right now. I didn’t have the energy, nor the mental fortitude to try to comprehend his strange nature: his wayward compliments, glowing smiles, or pervasive upbeat attitude. 

Moreover, I didn’t especially want him to see me in this state. I didn’t want him to see the man he had “obsessed” over, and admired, looking so run down and defeated. 

Finally, I had to admit that I lost control over my life. I didn’t even have complete control over the amount of alcohol I put into my body. There was something in me, some distant, constant voice that called out: “Just one more, it’s fine. You deserve it. It can’t hurt. Just one more.” And I was swiftly finding out that that voice was a damned, shitty liar. 

So why couldn’t I stop? Why had I drunk that scotch last night? Why had I kept going until I felt numb, and my mind stopped processing properly? 

I knew better, and yet I couldn’t stop. 

Did I have a problem? Was this alcohol dependency? Was I an alcoholic? 

No. Impossible. I was stronger than that. I didn’t need alcohol; it was just something I did sometimes when I wanted an extra help controlling the unruly thoughts that swam around in my head. The whole notion was ridiculous. 

And yet… 

Despite my late arrival and current mental state, my first class of the day went smoothly. 

And though I would never admit that I was actually happy about this - not in a million years, not even if it meant saving my own life - Hanji was actually free for lunch. 

“Did you get good sleep last night at least?” 

“Yes.” It was a lie, but Hanji had never been able to completely discern my truths from my fictions. The only one to master that skill thus far is Erwin, and he isn’t here right now. Regardless, she still eyed me carefully for a moment, as if trying to determine if I was being honest with her. About ten years ago she’d actually broken down and begged Erwin to teach her how to tell when I was fibbing. He had tried, but apparently it’s more of an intuition based thing than a teachable craft. You’ve either got it, or you don’t. And Hanji certainly did not. 

“If you say so.” She would have to take my word for it for now. “Don’t forget, dinner is at seven okay? At our place. Please don’t be late.” 

“I’ll try.” I commented plainly, reaching to grab the other half of my sub from the table, only to be swatted away by Hanji. 

“Hey. Don’t try. Just do it. We’re all worried. Erwin especially, he's still upset that you wouldn't let me call him to come help last night. He wants me to give you the number of this specialist he knows.” 

“Why would Erwin know a neurology specialist?” I asked, finally successful at grabbing the second half of my turkey club. 

“How am I supposed to know. The man has crazy connections in crazy places. You know that as well as I do. Just take it.” She reached into her pocket and withdrew a small business card. 

“Fine. But it doesn’t mean I’ll see him.” I snatched the thin rectangle of paper from her grasp. “And don’t think I’ve forgiven you for telling Erwin about this. It’s none of his business.” She was giving me one of those looks she had become so fond of lately. It was a nice mixture of disappointment, concern, and sadness. 

“He needed to know, Levi. Don’t pretend like it isn’t true. I can’t be the only one you lean on.” 

“Well I sure as hell don’t want to lean on him.” It had less to do with the fact that Erwin had a bad habit of using these situations against me at a future date, and more to do with the fact that he had a family with two young children to worry about now. He didn’t have the time, or energy, to waste fretting over me and my pathetic life. 

“Don’t talk like that, Shorty. He loves you just as much as I do.” I grimaced. 

“Don’t say it like that. You make it sound weird.” 

“Well it’s true, dammit.” 

“Still.” She huffed a puff of air and rolled her eyes. I swear, except for last night, this is the longest I think I’ve ever seen Hanji be completely serious. It’s got me on edge. This isn’t normal. She must be really worried. 

Fuck, this was all my fault. I was just dragging everybody around me down. I was such an asshole, causing the people I cared about so much pain. 

I checked my watch, hoping that I could come up with an excuse to excuse Hanji from my misery. 

12:32. 

“I have class soon. We should wrap this up.” I was already balling up my trash to be thrown away. I avoided making eye-contact, knowing what expression would be evident behind those obscenely bulky glasses of hers. Without a doubt it would be concern. And without a doubt, I wouldn’t be able to resist whatever she was going to say. 

“It’s okay to rely on us, you know. We’re your family.” 

“Yeah.” I stood from my chair, still unable to look at her face. Why did I have to be such an ass? She was too good for this. She didn’t deserve this. She didn’t have to take care of me like this. I should be able to take care of myself. I was a fucking adult, after all. So why was I leaning on poor Hanji all the time? It wasn’t fair to her, and it wasn’t fair to myself. 

“Don’t forget about dinner, please.” 

“Okay.” It was a half-hearted reply as I scrambled to collect my things and get out the door. 

###### 

Part of me wanted to cancel my lecture-hall. Just send out a mass email, and post a sign on the door telling everyone to go home for the day. I wasn’t in the mood to stand up in front of eighty snot nosed bratty underclassmen and have them ignore me for a solid hour. 

But more than that, I wasn’t in the mood to stand up in front of the green-eyed brat and have him see my current state. 

I stood in the bathroom, washing my hands in the cool water that flowed from the faucet, staring at myself in the mirror. Despite the fact that I actually got a few hours of sleep last night, and a shower this morning, my appearance hadn’t drastically improved since yesterday. The bags beneath my eyes were just as dark and puffy as they had been before, my undercut was still in desperate need of a trim, and my skin was still pasty and ghost-like. My outward appearance only reflected how I felt on the inside: pathetic, miserable, and virtually dead. 

I couldn’t help but think I’d just be a huge disappointment to him. He practically idolized me, and here I was unable to handle my own shit like an adult. What kind of role-model was I? He’d stop with his foolish admiration if he knew what was going on in my pathetic life for sure. He’s stop showing up for office hours, stop sitting in my front row, never take another class I taught. 

It should have shocked me more to find that I was terrified by the prospect. When had this happened? When had I started to crave his attention? When had I started to rely on his shitty smiling face in my front row? On his endless, obnoxious questions in office hours? His confusing, strange, everything? 

When had I started thinking about him as more than just another pain in the ass student? 

If I thought of him as just another student, then there was no way I would be bothered by showing up to class looking like a defeated mess. I wouldn’t be bothered by what they thought of me. I didn’t care what anyone thought of me, much less some dumb-ass student. 

If I thought of him as just another student, I would have just canceled class. I wouldn’t feel like someone had stabbed me in the chest at the thought of passing up on seeing his stupid mug in my front row, or that by canceling I would miss the chance to have him show up for office hours later. Even if I wasn't entirely sure I could handle seeing him one-on-one right now. 

Holy shit I was pathetic. 

When had I started relying on a student so much? When had I started feeling like I just had to see him again, even if I was sure it would just make him lose all respect for me? 

What the fuck was happening to me? 

I had to stop thinking about this. It was already 12:52, and I was going to be late again. 

I made it to class at 1:05 and from the atmosphere in the room, I could tell the students were all disappointed I had finally shown up. I’m sure If I had been another minute late most of them would have just stood and walked out. Not that I could blame them, really. I probably would have done the same if I was in their position. 

I tried my hardest to avoid looking at the front row, but it wasn’t any use. I couldn’t help myself. 

Shockingly, he wasn’t there. Where the hell was that shitty brat? I scanned the rest of the rows, finding myself in a small panic that he had abandoned me for one of the seats further away, but there was no sign of him. 

Where the hell was he? Was he skipping? Was he okay? 

I shook the questions from my mind. I couldn’t think about him right now, I had a class to teach. 

I started talking as I set up my slides, at this rate I wouldn’t be able to get through all my material before I would be forced to dismiss them. Another perfect addition to an already perfect day. 

It couldn’t have been more than five minutes after I started class that the door to my left creaked open, revealing a disheveled, green-eyed brunette in a gray hoodie. I watched him carefully as he made his way to his claimed seat in the front row, avoiding eye contact the entire way. 

What was his deal? Late, and acting weird. This didn’t bode well. 

I tried to ignore him and carried on with my lecture. 

I was an idiot for thinking I could ignore him. 

Was it just me, or did he not look so hot? I mean, I wasn’t really one to talk here. I looked and felt like absolute shit. But still, it seemed like the world had chewed the brat up and spit out. His hair was a mess, he obviously hadn’t combed or washed it this morning, he looked almost like he had just rolled out of bed. But the dead look in his eyes told me that wasn’t likely the case. It looked like he hadn’t slept at all last night. 

But he was young, and in college. That is what college kids did; I can’t remember how many nights I spent staying up to write a paper, or study for an exam. That must be what it was, just normal college shit. He was probably fine. It was probably nothing. I didn’t have anything to worry about, aside from my own problems. 

But something in the look on his face told me that likely wasn't the cause. Something else was horribly off. It was like Monday, when he had come into class in a foul mood, something clearly bothering him. Maybe whatever had been causing his attitude problems earlier in the week was still at it? Maybe this was an ongoing thing? Like before, he wasn’t smiling, nor was he looking at me. This wasn’t good, I couldn’t deal with him being in a shit mood too. I could barely deal with myself right now, if he came up and asked to meet in office hours again like this, I’m not sure I could handle it. 

Class went smoothly, and as expected most of the students’ attention was elsewhere. Even the green-eyed brat didn’t seem as attentive as usual. I should be used to students not paying me any mind while I lectured, but that last fact stung a little. Why was he having this effect on me? What was the deal? 

Once I was finished, I dismissed them. I didn’t get to all the material, but I didn’t really expect to. Besides, most of them didn’t get much of anything from my lectures anyways. They most likely didn’t even notice I didn't get to everything. 

As had become routine, I shut down the electronics and started packing up. When I looked up to find there was no large, familiar body blocking my line of sight I squinted in confusion. 

This was weird. It felt off. I didn’t like it. I looked around for the shitty green-eyed brat, he didn’t even come up and say good bye like he normally would. I had already gotten used to his quirks, he better not go changing them up on me already. We were barely a week into the year. If he was going to be fickle like this, then he’d have to deal with the consequences. 

It wasn’t until I scanned over the seats that I noticed him, still stuck in his scratched, green chair and staring off into space. 

Oh. 

“Jaeger?” I called out to him. 

“Hmm?” He answered, but didn’t look over, still obliviously lost in thought. Wasn’t this just utterly strange. 

“Everything alright kid?” Should I head over to his desk? This isn’t normal. Maybe I should refer him to the counselor’s office? If I thought I was in unfamiliar territory with this brat before, then I was practically stranded on another planet by this point. 

“What? Oh yeah.” He seemed to snap out of it as I hesitantly stepped over to his desk. 

“You sure? Class is over, but you’re still here.” 

“Huh?” So he hadn’t noticed. Where was this brat’s head today? “Oh. Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking about …stuff.” 

“Stuff?” That was vague. What the fuck was this kid’s problem. 

“Can I come to office hours again?” Oh no, I couldn’t deal with him right now. Not when I was in such a shitty place, and he was so obviously upset about something. I wasn’t good with the whole consoling and talking about feelings thing. I really couldn’t do this. 

“I don’t know…” I started, I was going to tell him that I had to cancel office hours today. I had already resigned myself to the dejected expression that I would inevitably receive for my troubles. But that look in his eyes…Dear lord help me, I could actually physically see is heart breaking “Yeah. Sure, kid. Whatever.” I'm 75% sure I imagined the light I saw flash in his eyes at my answer. 

“Thanks. I don’t want to be a burden. I just, really need to get my mind off some things that have been happening lately. And our discussions always seem to do that for me.” I absolutely understood that sentiment. After all, it was the same for me, wasn’t it? 

“Three O’clock. Don’t be late, or I’m going home early.” 

“You got it, Professor. I'll see you then.” Finally, he stood and made moves for the door. I watched him go, silently wondering what could be bothering him so much. His sister, most likely. Was she riding him about his future career again? Or maybe it was something to do with his mother? She was still alive, and when he spoke of her it seemed like she wasn’t able to care for herself. Maybe she was sick or something? It could be practically anything, there was no use in trying to figure it out. 

So I didn’t. Instead, I headed back to my office to wait for him. 

###### 

He arrived early, which given his late arrival to class today was a bit of shocking. But I wasn’t in the mood to complain. 

Much to my satisfaction, it seemed he hadn’t been lying before when he said he just wanted a distraction, because we immediately jumped into talking about the wars. However, his foul mood was evident in he first few minutes after his arrival - His responses were shorter, and less thoughtful than normal. It didn’t take him long to warm up, though, and for that I couldn’t help but be grateful. If I had to carry this conversation for the both of us it would have been torture. 

“So, you think if the Emperor hadn’t started the Shifter Genocide, that the other territories wouldn’t have rebelled?” 

“Pretty much.” We’d already been other this in previous conversations, but I couldn’t say I minded to much rehashing it. I didn’t mind anything too much when it came to the Colonial Wars and these talks we had in my office. And besides, we never really resolved our differing opinions on the matter. 

“You don’t think they would have rebelled anyways? I mean, the Colossal Empire was on the down swing already by that point.” 

“Well, when you put it like that.” He gave me a look, one that I’d gotten used to in the past week. I already knew what it meant. With just that one look he was telling me _I’m tired of your shit, give me a real answer you asshole._ Or something to that effect. “Maybe a couple of decades down the line. But the Empire was still plenty stable before the shit hit the fan, people like to forget that detail.” 

“What do you mean, stable? They were practically teetering on the edge of collapse! The Shifter Revolt proves it. Why do you think they went to such length to quash them after the fight was over?” 

“The whole situation is more nuanced than you’re making it seem, brat. They weren’t ‘teetering on the edge of collapse’. They were weakened, sure, but not collapsing. They weren’t in danger of that until all their territories started rebelling at the same time.” 

“You’re giving them way too much credit.” 

“You aren’t giving them enough credit. Who’s the professor here, again?” He rolled his eyes. I used that defense a lot, I’ll admit I wasn’t proud of it. It was a shitty argument when it came down to it, and it never worked anyways. He was too headstrong to ever concede over a point as deficient as that. 

“I thought we’d been over that argument. It’s a fallacy, it’s not going to fly. Back up your position, or concede that I’m right.” 

“I can’t concede, because you’re wrong.” 

“How am I wrong?” 

“Because the Empire wasn’t on the verge of collapse.” 

“They were.” 

“Prove it.” I could see the frustration boiling under his skin. He was too quick to emotion, and oh so very easy to read. I chuckled at him, I couldn’t help it. 

“Hey, don’t laugh at me!” 

“I’m not.” 

“You are, cut it out.” 

“I’m not laughing at you.” He was only getting more worked up now. This was priceless. I needed this, I couldn’t really remember the last time I’d laughed. It felt weird to me now, the way my face pinched up and the sound reverberated in my chest. 

“You are.” He paused, looking at me funny. It wasn’t a look I’d seen before, and I wasn’t sure what it was supposed to mean. “You never laugh. What’s wrong with you?” 

“Huh?” 

“I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen you laugh. Hell, I’m pretty sure I’ve never even seen you smile. What gives?” Honestly, I didn’t have an answer for him. 

“Your face. It’s funny.” 

“My… face?” 

“You heard me.” 

“I see.” Shit, was he pissed at me for that? I guess it was to be expected, they all got offended by me eventually. Now he’d decide he was done putting up with my bullshit, and I’d never see him again. The conversations would end, he’d move to the back row, he’d avoid me after class. This was it. 

“Has anyone ever told you you’re an asshole?” Was he cracking a smile? Holy shit. He was actually smiling. I didn’t piss him off? Was he insane? 

“Hey, don’t call your professors assholes.” 

“Whoops. Sorry.” He didn’t look sorry, not in the slightest. And now he was mumbling something incoherent. 

“Oi, what was that? Speak up, brat.” Another look I was familiar with. This one was dripping with incredulity. 

“I said, ‘It’s not like you treat me much like a student anyways.’” 

“And what is that supposed to mean?” He shrugged and glanced up at the clock. 

“I’ve got to run. We’ll continue this tomorrow, yeah?” I didn’t answer, choosing to keep my eyes narrowed at him for that comment. What the ever loving fuck was that supposed to mean. 

“See you, Professor.” If I didn’t know any better, I would have sworn that the ‘Professor’ bit was entirely sarcastic. 

Shit. This was getting too far. 

I was letting him get the impression that we were actually friends, and not professor and student. This wasn’t good. He couldn’t think that. I had to find a way to fix this. But right now, I needed to get out of here. 

I stepped out of the building and was pleasantly surprised. For once this week it wasn’t windy, it wasn’t snowing, it wasn’t even all that cold. It was in the fifties (A/N: ~13 in Celsius), but it was beautiful for January. 

After spending the wintery months cooped up in doors, only braving the outside world to walk between the safety of a heated space, I felt the sudden urge to get some air. Which is how I found myself sitting on a bench on one of the courtyards that lined my walk to my car. 

I didn’t have to be at dinner until seven, and a with a quick check of my watch I could see I still had a few hours. It was still only 4:57. I had some time to straighten out my thoughts and plan on what the ever loving fuck I was going to do about my green-eyed brat problem. 

Unfortunately, I didn’t get that far. A soft, muted buzzing in my pocket alerted me that I was getting a phone call. 

The caller ID told me it was Erwin, which was strange. Why was he calling me in the middle of the day? Wasn’t he at work? 

“Erwin?” 

“Levi, thank God. Where the hell are you?” 

“What?” 

“We’ve been trying to reach you for over an hour?” Over an hour? 

“What do you mean? I didn’t get any calls?” Did I? I pulled my phone away from my ear, and clicked to check my missed calls. 

20 missed calls. 

13 missed texts. 

From a mix of Hanji, Erwin, Mike, and Moblit’s numbers. When had this happened? I clicked on the most recent text message. 

**FROM: ZOE**  
Delivered: 6:53 PM  
IF YOU DON’T ANSWER YOUR PHONE THIS MINUTE WE ARE CALLING THE POLICE. 

What? Wait. 6:53? My eyes flickered to the corner of the screen. 

7:06. 

I was suddenly incredibly aware that it was now very dark outside, and I was sitting in the light of a streetlamp that hadn’t been on when I sat down. 

I replaced my phone to my ear, the panic already choking me. 

“Fuck.” 

“What the fuck Levi?” 

“I blacked out again. Shit.” I let my head fall into my free hand. This was so fucked. Why was this still happening to me? 

“You – Again?” I tried to answer in the affirmative, but noises were becoming increasingly difficult to manage. I heard the phone being jostled around, some mumbling from the receiver as Erwin spoke to someone else in the room. 

“Levi?” Hanji’s voice rang over the line. 

“Hm?” I tried to respond, but nothing was coming out. 

“I’m coming to get you. Where are you? You’re staying with me and Moblit until we can get this figured out. I don’t want you driving like this.” Yeah, that was probably for the best. But still, I couldn’t burden Hanji any more than I already had. 

“No.” I managed. “I’m fine.” It took all my will to overcome the mental blockade created by the swell of panic, but I’d somehow done it. 

“You’re not fine. Now tell me where you are, dammit. I’m already on my way.” 

“Isn’t that Erwin’s phone?” 

“He lent it to me. Levi. Now. Where are you.” 

“Campus. Orvud Courtyard.” 

“I’ll be there in five minutes. Do. Not. Move.” 

She didn’t have anything to worry about, because I wasn’t sure I could move if I wanted to. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BTW, if it wasn't obvious: Levi/Hanji is my most favorite BROTP.  
> Also, shit is hitting the fan riiight about now ;) 
> 
> Hope you liked it!  
> Much love, and remember: Comments are love, comments are life!  
> RG!
> 
> PS: [I have a tumblr now, ](http://rglass.tumblr.com/)I'm new at this. So please, be gentle ;)  
> 


	8. The Brat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To fear love is to fear life, and those who fear life are already three parts dead  
> (Bertrand Russell)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Third chapter in a week! I'm really spoiling you guys here, even if this is only half the length of a normal chapter. Seriously, don't get used to this, okay?
> 
> So, after last chapter I was hit with a lot of questions regarding Eren, and soulmates and stuff, and I realized I never actually went into depth with how the whole thing works. And so I thought hard on this chapter, and whether or not I actually wanted to include it. I decided that I would. Mostly because once I actually started writing Eren's perspective I found I really enjoyed writing from his 'voice', so to speak.  
> Heads up, there is little to no plot progression here. This wasn't an originally planned chapter, this is something I'm putting in because readers asked for it, and I thought it wouldn't detract from anything. In fact, I decided that it could be a beneficial tool after MUCH MUCH consideration.
> 
> Everything in this chapter was planned for discussion at some point. Mostly in the next chapter, or chapter 10.  
> BUT, I decided that certain things coming from Eren's POV would be more effective than getting them from Levi.  
> I'm still not sure about the placement here, I was considering putting this as chapter 9, or at the very end of chapter 8. But decided this was the best way to handle it. Let me know what you think!  
> So, by popular demand: here is Eren's first (and likely only) chapter. Sorry if it isn't everything you ever hoped it would be.

“Alright, Mr. Jaeger. I’ve spoken to your doctor from Shiganshina, we’ve agreed it’s probably in your best interest to up your dosage. If this doesn’t work, we’ll have to see if there are other non-medical solutions we can look into. Until then, I suggest you look into lightening your load this semester. Your current dosage may not be enough to handle the added stress.” 

“Whatever you think is best.” The stout woman adjusted the thick rimmed glasses that sat perched on her nose before scribbling something onto a small sheet of paper. 

“I’m not sure why this is happening to you again, but we’ll figure it out. Usually these types of things can be treated easily with proper medication. But I don’t think I’ve seen a case where we’ve had to come so close to the maximum dose.” 

“It’s fine, I’m used to it by now.” 

“Okay then. Don’t hesitate to come back if the problem persists. But I doubt it will, this is usually just a matter of dosage.” I wanted to agree with her, truly I did. But this would be my ninth dosage increase in two years. Though, the last one had held the attacks off better than the others. It had lasted almost nine months now. Why was this happening to me again? I was already so heavily medicated, why was it still persisting even though I was on medication? Why me? 

It began just over two years ago, after I started college. The counselors there told me it was probably just stress from being in a new environment, that they would likely stop soon. I just needed to get used to being away from home, not that I really had much of a home to be away from, that it was because I was in a new place, even though I was still living in the same city I had grown up in. 

But it never went away, it only got worse. The first time they put me on medication was right before I went home for winter break. They started me on the lowest dosage at first, they said we might have to play around with my prescription a little, that it was mostly just a guessing game to begin with, but it wouldn’t take long to figure everything out. A few months, maximum. 

I didn’t have one incident while I was visiting Mikasa and Armin in Sina that winter. Not a single one. I thought it was over, that I could live like normal again, not having to worry about when and where I would start freaking out next, wouldn't feel like I couldn’t breathe, like I was going to die. 

It started up again the day I got back to school, and didn’t stop until they upped my dose for the first time. 

After that they increased my dose every so often. I would get a few weeks, sometimes months, of relief before it started to ruin my life again. My first summer break I was blessed with an incident free three months spent with Mikasa and Armin in Armin’s Sina apartment, that was my longest relief until my most recent dosage increase. But once returned in September, it was like the medication did nothing anymore. 

My doctor told me it was only a matter of time until we figured it out and upped my prescription again. I almost made it to Thanksgiving that time before it got bad again. But by the end of the year, they'd increased my dose for the eighth time, and the doctors were at a loss. It shouldn't have been getting worse, they'd never seen such a pervasive case of panic attacks in their years of working a school psychologists. My problem was a mystery to them. 

That summer, I decided it was too much: the only time I truly got extended relief from the attacks was when I was reunited with Armin and Mikasa. 

So that was how I found myself applying to transfer to Sina University. 

I didn’t tell Mikasa or Armin anything about it, they would have just worried about me instead of focusing on school. I told them I was transferring because if I wasn’t going to be a history major any more, there was no point in me staying at Titan. And really, there wasn’t. That wasn’t exactly a lie. It's just that the fact that I was miserable there was more pressing. 

It stopped the day I started my eighth dosage increase, the day after I decided to transfer. 

According to my doctor, that last increase was already pushing what my body could handle, too much more could put my kidneys and other organs at risk. So why was this still happening? They should have found the right dose months ago. Why was this happening to me? 

Why did I suddenly find myself deprived of oxygen, like the world was shrinking around me? Why did my limbs no numb, and my ears start to ring? Why? I didn’t even know what triggered them, they would happen at the most random times. Like standing in line to order food in the dining hall, or on my way to class, or stepping out of the shower in the morning. 

There was neither rhyme or reason to them. It was almost as frustrating as the fact that apparently nothing could stop them. 

At least I still managed to hide it from Mikasa and Armin. 

I felt my phone vibrating violently in my pocket as I exited the pharmacy, prescription stowed safely in my backpack. Someone was calling me. Who could possibly be calling me? 

I slid my phone from my pants pocket and checked the caller ID. 

“What’s up, Arm?” 

“Where are you?” 

“On my way back from campus. Why? What’s up?” 

“Jean’s freaking out. Can you hurry back?” 

“What’s his problem now?” 

“I think it’s better if you’re here for it in person.” 

“I’ll be there in five.” What had that asshole gotten himself into this time? 

I’d known Jean for a little over two years, he was Armin’s roommate back when we were freshman, and they’ve lived together ever since. They say they work well together, whatever that means. So, lucky for me, when I decided to transfer, they let me crash their setup. It wasn’t ideal, we shared a two-bedroom, one-bathroom shithole off campus. But it was cheap, and I didn’t really mind sharing a bedroom with Armin, so it worked for us. 

Slightly peeved that I was now having to rush my walk back to handle whatever shit that horse-faced asshole had fucked up, I picked up my pace and headed towards home. The walk took less than five minutes, but I took my sweet time climbing the four flights of stairs to our apartment. If I started being early now, Armin would start expecting it from me more often. 

As my key clicked in the lock, I heard voices drifting from inside the small apartment. Armin hadn’t lied: Jean was, in fact, freaking out. I could hear Armin trying to calm him down, and another male voice I couldn’t determine. Was that Mikasa too? 

I really didn’t feel like handling his bullshit right now, and it sounded like the others were already on top of things. Why did Armin insist I was here for this? 

I momentarily considered pulling the key from the lock and heading back to the library, where I could study in peace. I was still upset over the fact that my panic attacks were back again, I wasn’t in the mood to calm down a raging horse. 

But, I’m too good of a friend for that. 

The first thing I noticed after pushing the door in was that Jean was pacing across the living room, his hands woven through his own hair so tightly he would probably go bald if he didn’t cut it out soon. 

The second, was that the other male voice I had noticed was Connie, a guy who was way too nice to be one of Jean’s friends, yet somehow was. He was always here, so his presence wasn’t exactly a surprise. We’d become pretty good friends since I’d moved in, and the look on his face at this moment told me that he was about to wring Jean’s neck. 

“What did you fuck up this time, Seabiscuit?” I called to him, pulling him out of his panicked trance. 

“Nothing!” He shot back, returning to his pacing. 

“Armin, what the hell?” I slung my backpack onto the kitchen table and grabbed the only empty seat left to watch Jean wear a hole into our carpet. 

“Do you want to tell Eren the news, or should I?” My blonde best friend inquired, sounding more irritated than he had in years 

“You. No, me. No. I don’t care.” Whatever the fuck he did, it was bad. Jean was always getting himself into trouble, whether it was picking a fight with the wrong asshole, or some shitty comment that got him on a professor’s bad side. This really could be just about anything. 

“This shit-dick found his soulmate and high tailed it out of there like a fucking coward.” Connie was the one to enlighten me to the predicament in the most eloquent way he could probably come up with. 

“You what?” I blinked up at the fucking idiot horse, trying to hold back the urge to throttle him. “What the fuck is wrong with you, you shit-weasel.” I opted to whip the pillow from behind my back at his head instead. 

"You have no idea what it’s like dude. Lay off.” 

“Like hell I’ll lay off” I felt rage bubbling to the surface as I turned my attention to Armin, “Why the fuck did you think it was a good idea for me to be here for this? You know about my mom.” 

“That’s exactly why I figured you should be here for this. You of all people knows what happens when one soulmate abandons another.” He was so lucky his little plan didn’t backfire and I didn’t just strangle Jean right here. 

“Wha- what happens?” Jean had stopped his pacing, and was now clutching the pillow I’d beamed at him to his chest, looking terrified. I’m not sure he’s seen me this pissed before. 

“Nothing good, dick-weed.” 

“Fuck.” 

“You’re damn right, ‘fuck’. Where is this girl? What happened? You are so unbelievably lucky I haven’t killed you yet, so fucking spill.” I narrowed my eyes at him, my fists already clenched as I tried to contain my anger for long enough to get the full story. 

“I was waiting for my drink at the coffee-shop on campus, you know, the one with the kick-ass lattes, and then one of the employees bumps into me and next thing I know I feel like I’ve been tossed from a fucking airplane, or some shit, and there’s, like, wind everywhere: in my ears, and filling my nose, and stinging my eyes - like that. And I looked over, and saw him and it clicked, and I don’t know. I just panicked, and took off. Didn’t even ever get my drink.” 

“Wait, it’s a guy?” Connie shouted from his spot on the couch, throwing his own pillow at Jean’s head. “You didn’t mention that before. What the fuck, dude?” 

“Oh, well yeah.” 

“You have to go find the poor guy. He’s probably freaking out right now.” 

“And I’m not? I just found out I have a soulmate, you asshole.” 

“So did he.” 

“Yeah, but –“ 

“No, you cock-lizard. You need to go find this guy. Now. How can you even be standing here like this?” 

“I don’t know.” Jean’s voice was growing smaller as I berated him. I just can’t believe how fucking dense he is. 

“You’re lucky you guys just met, because if you were any closer this could fucking kill him.” 

“Wait, what?” 

“Didn’t you pay attention in health class in high school, numb nuts?” 

“What? Yeah, of course?” 

“Then you’d know that the heartbreak of being abandoned by your soulmate can be enough to kill you. Or worse.” 

“Shit.” 

“Yeah, ‘shit’, you mother fucker.” I was on my feet now, no longer able to sit still. I hadn’t felt this full of rage since the night I found out my dad abandoned my family. 

Jean was doubled over now, his face buried in his hands. Looks like I got through to him, not that that fact did much for the urge I still felt to smash his head into the ground repeatedly. 

“I’ve got to go find him.” He was standing now and I could see the wetness brimming in the corners of his eyes. I almost felt sorry for him, he knew he’d fucked up. But I couldn’t feel sorry for him. Instead, I slammed my fist into his face. 

“What the fuck was that for?” He screamed, cradling his now-red jaw. 

“Because you’re still standing here and not running around campus trying to find the poor son of a bitch.” I screamed back, as if it were obvious. 

Realization set into his face for the briefest moment before he was turning on his heels and bolting out the door. 

“God fucking dammit.” I muttered once he was gone, shaking out my stinging hand. “Bastard’s face is more solid than it looks.” I heard Connie snicker at that. 

“Thank God you came. He was saying crazy shit for a while there, like how he should just drop out so he’d never have to face the kid again or something.” Connie said, getting up from his spot on the couch. “I guess there was a reason he became so enamored with that coffee shop last semester.” 

“Yeah, and it sure as hell wasn’t their lattes” I added, moving to the kitchen to get a glass of water, I needed something to do with my hands or I’d end up punching something else too. 

“Wonder if he’ll actually find him.” Mikasa piped up from her spot on the couch for the first time since I’d entered the room. 

“If he wants to, he will. It isn’t like he’ll have to try hard.” Connie responded, going to raid our fridge. 

“Yeah, if whatever draws you to your soulmate is anything like they say it is, I can’t imagine he’ll have too much trouble if he just follows his gut.” Armin answered, standing to come join us in the kitchen. 

“He’s doomed then” Connie quipped from behind the white door of the refrigerator with a chuckle. I found myself laughing at his joke, the seething rage slowly dissipating enough for me to finally think clearly. 

They were right. At this point, so long as Jean was serious about finding this guy he’d likely be able to do it. Before you actually experience the Feeling, they say you can’t really find the words to describe why you’re drawn to a certain place, or a certain thing. After meeting them, though, it becomes incredibly obvious. 

It was them, the entire time it was them. 

Pulled together by whatever mechanism fate designed to draw you to one another using whatever means possible. It was probably why Jean and his soulmate chose the same school in the first place, and why Jean developed a penchant for that coffee shop after what I can only assume was when the other guy started working there. Hell, it may even be the reason Jean developed a taste for lattes in the first place. 

It’s the reason why, if you’re one of the lucky 1/3 of the population that’s got a soulmate, finding them before you turn twenty-five is almost a certainty. And if you’re over twenty-five, well you can pretty much assume you don’t have one. Over twenty-seven? Sorry, but there’s no soul-mate for you. 

“Seriously though, Armin. You’re lucky I didn’t kill him. What were you thinking, dropping that on me?” 

“It worked out, didn’t it?” 

“Well, yeah. Barely. I did punch him, after all." 

“Did you really have to send him flying into a fit of rage like that?” Mikasa asked from the couch, she hated it when I got like that almost as much as I did. 

“I thought it was effective.” 

“No one asked you, Connie. And stop eating our food.” I kicked the door lightly, causing it to knock into his head. 

“Well it was.” He replied, but didn’t step away from the fridge. 

I guess it was. Didn’t mean I cared much for Armin’s methods though. 

My phone rang again about a half hour later, after I already settled down to study. The name on the caller ID brought forth the rage once more. 

“What?” I asked coldly, not entertained by this asshole one bit. 

“Sorry dude.” At least he sounded sincere. 

“Did you find him?” 

“Yeah. They don’t joke around when they say you’re drawn to your soulmate, you know. I found him, like, immediately.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Everything’s good now?” 

“Yeah. I really owe you one. He was freaking out, but fine. Just, yeah. Thanks, Jaeger.” I felt the irritation that had swelled when I saw Jean’s name on my caller ID subside. 

“Way to be a man, Seabiscuit. Anytime.” 

“Seriously.” 

“Oh, and Jean?” 

“Hm?” 

“What’s his name?” I could practically hear the smile in his voice when he answered. 

“Marco. His name’s Marco.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My headcannon is that 20 year old Eren curses like a sailor. *insert "deal with it" meme here*.
> 
> Really hope you enjoyed it.  
> And Remember, feedback is my lifeblood. Comments are my world.
> 
> Much Love  
> RG
> 
> PS: [If you still haven't heard, I have a tumblr now. ](http://rglass.tumblr.com/)I'm still new to the whole thing. So, please I beg of you, be gentle.  
> 


	9. The Ninth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
>  "Knowing what o'clock it is gives [you] the illusion that [you] have some control over your circumstances"  
> (Diana Gabaldon, _Written in My Own Heart's Blood_ )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm dying. Law school killed me. Sorry guys. 
> 
> So, my finals are at the end of the month. You might not see an update from me in the next month or so. If I can't get anything up before the 25th, then I probably won't update until around May 20th because of my schedule. I hope to at least be able to give you guys the next chapter before I fall off the face of the earth, but I'm not sure if I will be able to.
> 
> Hope you enjoy Chapter 9, it's a long one :)

For the first time in months I woke in a bed that wasn’t my own. Of course, the last time it happened it was in Petra’s bedroom, with her lying next to me. This time, however, the sheets on the other side of the bed were undisturbed and cold. This time, the light cast across my eyes was unusually bright and the smell of detergent scented sheets strange, but not unfamiliar. I cracked my eyes, letting them become accustomed to the sunlight streaming through the window opposite the large, fluffy bed. 

Hanji and Moblit’s guest bedroom was small and sparse, the only people to ever use it were me, Erwin, and Moblit’s sister when she visited once a year for his birthday. It held the soft double bed with the downy comforter I currently found myself wrapped in, a small oak dresser filled mostly with out-of-season clothing, a matching oak bed-side table with a modern looking, metallic lamp and gray shade, and a closet filled to the brim with holiday decorations. The walls were the only thing in the room not bare of adornment. For all her eccentricities Hanji actually put some effort into decorating the home, though the paintings she chose to grace the walls of this particular room were mostly disorienting, abstract portraits Hanji found in a flea market a few years back. They always made me feel uneasy. 

With a groan, I pushed myself from the bed and unwound myself from the heavy, blue duvet. I was shocked at the unmistakable absence of the customary pounding migraine in my temples and weighty nausea in my stomach I'd grown used to. 

That’s right; last night was the first in weeks I hadn’t drank myself into a coma before tumbling unceremoniously into my bed. It felt weird waking up without a hangover. Had it really been long enough for me to grow accustomed to it? So much so that waking up without one was notable in my daily routine? 

Maybe I really did have a problem. Was that normal? It couldn't be normal. I should probably do something about that. 

I drug my legs from beneath the sheets and planted them firmly on the cool wood floor of Hanji’s guest room so I could make my way to the bathroom. 

Last night was a blur, and I noted with a grimace that for the first time in a long while it wasn’t because of the amount of alcohol I had consumed. 

In a whirlwind Hanji had brought me home, forced a meal in me, and bullied me into their guest bedroom. 

There was a brief discussion about my situation, where it was decided for me that until the black-outs stopped I wouldn’t be living alone. I obviously was still moving around during them; I had walked, and driven in the hours I was missing. But it wasn’t clear if I was losing consciousness, like sleep-walking, or if I was merely not forming the memories for those periods of time. That was the scariest part of it all. 

Hanji said she wanted to observe me. And even though we had no way of knowing where and when I would black-out, or even if I would black-out again, this was the best solution she could come up with. 

I wanted to think it was all unnecessary, but I couldn’t deny that I was happy to have her and Moblit around. Being alone still wasn’t high on my list at the moment – thoughts of Petra, my shitty life, and the green-eyed brat plagued me every moment I let my mind wander too far. Having a distraction around would be a blessing, even if it came in the form of a crazed woman and her saint of a husband. 

I stopped in front of the bathroom mirror, looking myself over carefully. The bags under my eyes had eased slightly since the night before, certainly thanks to being forced into a bed at ten pm. I definitely needed a shower, and my undercut was still in desperate need of a trim. I flipped through the drawers in the bathroom, searching for the ancient electric razor I knew they kept in here after Moblit bought a fancy new one with five blades. This one was at least a decade old, but still functional. 

It only took me several minutes to be satisfied with the length of my undercut before I moved on to shave the stubbly growth that had taken root on my face. From there, I replaced the old razor into it's drawer and found the toothbrush they kept for me. It sat among four brightly colored brushes that lay in a neat row inside the top drawer, I pulled out two: one neon green, the other bright blue. Trying not to overthink it, I tossed the green toothbrush in the trash. 

Petra's toothbrush. 

Not that she would need it again. 

Should I feel more relieved? Like another fragment of her was permanently ejected from my life? Should it have been harder for me to toss it? 

I pushed the questions from my mind. It was done, there was no use worrying about it now. 

I carried on with my morning routine: teeth brushed, face washed. 

Only one thing left. 

I pulled the pill bottle from my pocket and stared down at it as I turned it around lazily in my palm. I hadn’t gotten up the nerve to take any since coming home from the hospital, I was too chicken shit to swallow one. I hadn’t been able to stay sober for one night on my own in over a week, and mixing these with alcohol was positively moronic. The doctor never would have given me a fifteen-minute lecture about not doing precisely that if it wasn’t so dangerous. So far I was too afraid of landing in a hospital bed, or morgue, to pop a single one. 

When was the last time I had a drink? Had it been twenty-four hours yet? Had I had a drink since that Tuesday night after my trip to the ER? I didn’t think so. That had been nearly thirty-six hours ago at this point. Was it safe to take one of these yet? The label didn’t offer any guidance, but the doctor had said that as long as there was no alcohol in my system it should be fine. 

But what if I couldn’t make it a whole day without pouring myself a drink? What if I couldn’t control myself, like I couldn’t that night? What if my thoughts turned sour, and my head became twisted up with heartbreak? What if Hanji and Moblit weren't around when I needed a distraction? What if I was left alone with my thoughts too long? 

What if I blacked-out again, and guzzled a bottle of bourbon without remembering it? 

Shit, this really had to stop. 

I popped the cap off the bottle and sifted one into my palm. Before I could second guess it, I shoved the small, white rectangle into my mouth and swallowed. 

It was done. There was no going back now. 

With that taken care of, I slothed back to the guest room to grab my phone before braving the rest of the townhouse. 

The noises radiating from the kitchen downstairs told me someone was already awake. What time was it even? I clicked my phone on, and the glowing screen informed me it was 7:14 am. Knowing the couple whose home I was crashing, it was most likely Hanji that was making such a racket in the kitchen. Moblit was less of a morning person than I was. 

“Do you have to make so much noise?” I asked, reaching the last step and turning to confirm my suspicion 

Hanji stood holding a large bowl, counter a mess with batter before her. 

“Morning, Shorty.” She sang, whipping the batter around the bowl causing some to splash up and out onto the counter next to her. 

“You’re a mess.” I commented, heading to sit across from her on one of the island’s plush bar stools. 

“This isn’t the first time you’ve told me that, and it won’t be the last.” She laughed as she sat her bowl down to hand me a cup of coffee - in a neon pink mug, I didn’t fail to notice. The ceramic was warm in my hands, and the coffee palatable, though, so I chose to ignore it. 

“What in all hell’s name are you doing?” I asked as she resumed her furious attack on the contents of the bowl. 

“Pancakes.” She exclaimed, so awake at this early hour it was almost unnatural. 

“Can’t wait.” I muttered, taking a slow sip from my mug. 

I watched her work. Though she was a mess, when she put the effort in she could actually be a halfway decent cook. Her meals were mostly edible, when they didn’t involve “exotic” ingredients she purchased on a whim to experiment with. Sometimes they could even be considered delicious. 

Silence settled between us as I enjoyed my first of what was likely going to be several cups of coffee today. Somewhere between finishing mixing and turning on the stove to heat the skillet she started to hum some pop-song I couldn’t recognize. 

After twenty-five years of friendship times like this were more than comfortable. We’d long become used to each other’s idiosyncrasies, like the way that I compulsively cleaned up after her, or the way she ignored my attempts to rebuke her affections. It was relaxing: simple and unceremonious. 

But there were still things to be discussed, I couldn’t let it last. 

“I broke it off with Petra.” I tried to be nonchalant as I swirled my coffee in its bright pink mug. 

“You what?” Hanji asked, eyes the size of plates as she whipped away from the stove to face me, “When?” 

“Sunday, technically.” 

“And you waited till Thursday to tell me?” She abandoned her pancakes on the skillet and came around the island to embrace me. “I’m so sorry, Shrimpy.” She murmured into the top of my head, arms wrapping haphazardly around my back. 

I fought back the conditioned response to force her away with a heavy sigh and let her hold me. When was the last time I felt like I needed a hug? When I was six? Never? Either way, for once I was grateful for Hanji’s unsolicited signs of affection. 

“You aren’t going to fight for your freedom?” She asked, pulling away slightly to ruffle the hair on the top of my head. 

“Not in the mood.” The words came out as a growl, but I could practically hear Hanji smiling as gave me a full body squeeze. 

“This is worse than I thought.” She half-joked, loosening her grip to push her glasses up the bridge of her nose. 

“Your pancakes are burning, Specs” I nodded at the smoking pan on the other side of the counter. She jumped over to her pan with a squeal of horror, trying to salvage the now crisp batter as best she could. 

“So it’s really over between you two then?” She asked, tossing a ruined disk into the trashcan. I nodded my response as I took a long sip of coffee, savoring the warm bitterness. 

“You going to be okay?” It was a reasonable question. Even if I was the one that ended it, it had been a half-decade long relationship. Well past long enough to be able to count both sides of a breakup as the emotional losers. 

“Don’t have much of a choice.” I sipped the coffee again, finding myself wishing I had my trusty bourbon to spike it with. Today was going to be long and hard, and getting a hand from the friendly neighborhood liquor bottle would surely make it easier. 

Man, I was so fucked up. 

“Do you think you could do me one last favor?” I asked, breaking the eye-contact I’d established with my coffee. 

“I’m sure it won’t be the last, but absolutely. What do you need, Half-Pint?” She peered over her shoulder at me, smiling warmly. Damn this woman was too good for this world. I was such a shit friend, making her run around cleaning up after me. 

My request was harder to get out than I thought it would be. I stumbled over the words, trying to gather the balls to make my final – and I meant that – demand on her seemingly inexhaustible patience. 

“After you finish at the school, could you swing by my place and toss all my liquor. You know where I keep it.” 

“All of it?” 

“Everything.” 

“That’ll take me a while.” 

“Yeah, I know.” 

“You still keeping it in your old hiding spots these days?” 

“There might still be a bottle or two hidden somewhere. Just, find all of it okay. And if you wouldn’t mind stashing yours somewhere I won’t easily find it, I’d appreciate that too.” 

“You’re really doing this?” She looked cautiously optimistic. 

“That’s the plan. Cold turkey seems like the only way to handle this.” 

“Do you want me to find you a support group or something?” I scoffed at the idea of me sitting in a circle of strangers talking about my feelings. 

“Does that sound like something I’d do?” 

“No, I guess not. 

“I’ve got you. And Erwin too. I’ll be fine.” She was silent for a moment, trying to hold back the waterworks if experience told me anything. 

“Don’t you dare.” I hissed at her, I couldn’t take an overemotional Hanji this early. I hadn’t even gotten a full cup of coffee in me yet. 

“Sorry!” She apologized, hastily wiping at her eyes with a chuckle. “You’re just being so… not you. I’m not used to this kind of affection from you. I don’t really know how to handle it.” She was beaming, eyes still damp with tears. 

“Don’t let it go to your head.” I grumbled, taking another sip of the bitter, black coffee and averting my eyes. 

We let the silence resettle around us again for a moment, with only the sound of the sizzle of the pancakes on the pan and the tune she was humming hanging in the air. 

“I’m going by my place tonight. I have some things to do, and I need to grab some essentials from the apartment, if you want to pick me up from there.” I broke the comfortable silence again, not having finished with her quite yet. 

“Is that such a good idea? Do you think you should be driving right now?” Her voice was laced with concern, but the eyes she shot me over her shoulder were soft. 

“Probably not, but I need to get my car off campus.” 

“Moblit could drive you.” She offered, obviously not too confident in my idea, which was fine. It wasn’t like I was either. 

“I'm planning on going to the gym later. I need something to keep busy. Thought I’d get back into the habit.” 

“That could be a good idea.” She mused, obviously mulling the idea over. I nodded my agreement, if I couldn’t drink I’d have to find another way to stop my mind from wandering. Exhausting myself every day with physical exertion was the most positive outlet I could come up with. 

“What time will you be done?” 

“Eight, with any luck.” 

“I can have your apartment dry by then.” She decided with a smile. I finished the rest of my coffee and stood to place the empty mug in the sink. 

“Thanks, Hanji. For everything.” I managed, feeling incredibly awkward. I could see the tears welling up again in the corners of her eyes, obviously moved by my rare display of gratitude. 

She let out a higher pitched squeal than I was used to, leaning over to wrap me up in another of her bone-crushing hugs. 

“I love you, Short-Stack. Don’t ever forget that.” 

“If I did I think you’d tie me up and try to brainwash it back into me.” 

“You’re probably right.” She giggled, giving me one last squeeze before letting me escape. “Breakfast is in ten. Now, go shower. I have to wake Mo soon." She gave me a smack to the seat of my pants with her batter coated spatula. I decided to ignore the fact that I now, most likely, had a smear of pancake batter across my ass and did as I was told. Under any other circumstances I'd probably try to kill her right then and there. But Hanji deserved a break from my volatility after everything she’d done for me, it was only fair. 

###### 

I rode to campus in the back seat of Hanji’s car, the most put together I’d looked in weeks despite the fact I was wearing yesterday’s clothes. My undercut was buzzed, my face clean shaven, and my complexion not quite as ghost-like. The bags under my eyes wouldn’t ever really go away, but they were certainly not as deep this morning as they had been yesterday. 

It was simultaneously the best I’d felt, and worst I’d felt in weeks. It had been over thirty-six hours since my last drink, and I was already feeling like shit. Despite the eight hours I got the night before, my head felt fuzzy, like I hadn’t slept all night, my hands were shaking subtly, and I could sense the telltale signs of a migraine coming on. It wasn’t the type I’d come used to; the kind that followed a night of heavy drinking. It was different, located in the back of my skull rather than my temples. Hopefully I still had a bottle of painkillers in my desk, I was going to need them today. 

“I’ll be at your place by the time you get home, so try not to make me wait.” Hanji gave me a smile as we parted ways. “I have another lunch meeting with the administration about my new lab, so I won’t see you till then. Call if you need anything.” 

I didn’t verbalize my response, only giving her a nod as I started off towards my only class of the day. Luckily I wouldn’t have to put up with my students for longer than an hour and a half today. 

I arrived early, the room practically empty still. There were only two students sitting in the back row conversing quietly. They didn’t even so much as spare me a glance as I strode up to the podium to prepare for the day. I finished set up in record time with more than five minutes to spare until I needed to start talking. Students were still filtering in slowly, filling up their unofficial official seats. 

There is something about human nature that makes us favor routine, and I was already getting used to the compositions of my classrooms this semester. The back rows were always filled; it didn’t matter the class or the room. Sometimes the whole room would be full, not an empty seat to be seen. But in a room like this, where I had far less students than seats available, the second and first rows were typically sparsely populated. 

Sometimes it was students that wandered in too late to get a place in the back, or those who had been kicked out of their usual spots by a wayward student showing up for the single session they’d attend for the week. Sometimes it was the students who liked to play teacher’s pet, and by the time they realized there was no inroad with me it was too late to move. And sometimes the students who chose to sit closest to the front were just the stupidly brave. 

In the case of this class, and my lecture hall, only one seat in the front row was ever occupied. And that individual almost certainly fit the “stupidly brave” definition. 

Today he wandered in right as the clock reached ten, less than sixty seconds before I would need to begin talking if I wanted to make it through all my material. Like yesterday his hair was wild and appeared to be unwashed, his eyes carried bags, like he hadn’t slept in a long time, and his lips were twisted into a frown. He avoided eye contact with me as he slumped into his normal seat front and center, the only student I’ve had in any class to choose that spot without it being the last remaining empty seat. 

I watched him fiddle around in his bag, pulling out his notebook and pen to let them fall onto his desk carelessly. He didn’t even bother flipping to an empty page, instead he stared at the blue cover of notebook, arms folded across his chest, eyebrows knit together. 

What in the world could be doing this to him? What could possibly be causing him to act like this? It had been the same way yesterday, but our talk in my office had cheered him up, or so it had seemed. Everything was certainly not okay with him, and it showed no signs of getting better. 

I hadn’t known him for much longer than a week, but somehow it felt like this was my problem. Like I wanted to help him get out of whatever funk this was. I just wanted him back to normal, was that too much to ask for? 

Apparently it was. 

I tore my attention away from the front row and started my lecture, but I kept finding my eyes wandering back to the unruly mop in front of me. 

His pen scribbled lazily across the page as I spoke, lacking its usual fervor. The eyes that usually shone up with me with concentration seemed almost dead as he leaned to rest his head in his free hand. 

If I hadn’t already been on edge, I would’ve been now after watching him. It sucked the little remaining enthusiasm I had for this lecture out of me, souring my mood even more than I thought possible. 

When had my mood become so dependent on him? When had my enthusiasm for teaching become so centered on how receptive he was to what I had to say? 

It was pathetic. I was pathetic. 

I pushed the thoughts away and tried to focus on just finishing what I had to say and getting out of here. 

It worked for the most part, but every few minutes I found my attention drawn back to him and his half-hearted attempts to focus. It was disappointing, both seeing him like this and realizing what kind of affect just one student’s bad mood could put me in. 

The hour and a half class seemed to drag on forever, and I was grateful when it was finally over despite the fact that having no office hours today meant I would be forced to spend a few hours alone in my office as I tried to make some sort of headway with my book. I knew it was probably going to be a lost cause, and I would most likely end up spending the next few hours sitting in silence, thinking about things I should probably not be thinking about, trying to resist the urge to replinish the secret stash I kept int he bottom drawer of my desk. Thankfully, I had an afternoon meeting that would at least distract me for some of that time 

Wow. 

I was actually thankful for an afternoon meeting. 

That was a new one. 

“Professor?” I looked up from shutting off the electronics to find a tall, chocolate haired mess standing before me. Part of me wanted to crack a smile at the familiarity of it. Less than a week, and I was already expecting him to approach me after class. 

“Jaeger.” I acknowledged him, looking back down to continue packing up. 

“No office hours today?” He asked, though I knew he knew the answer. 

“That’s what the syllabus says.” 

“Yeah.” He wanted to ask something, I could hear it in his voice. The apprehension, as if he was terrified I’d bite his head off if he said too much. It was irritating. He shouldn’t be afraid of me at this point, what was he doddling around for? 

“Whatever it is, just ask me, brat.” I huffed, hoisting my bag onto my shoulder. 

“Oh, well, I was just wondering if we could have lunch in your office again? I could use another distraction.” I barely had to think on my answer, anything was preferable to sitting alone in my office with only the ticking of the clock as company. But I let him squirm a bit, pretending to think long and hard on his proposal. 

I couldn’t seem too eager to spend another hour alone with him in my office, it might send the wrong signals. 

Like signals that said “I enjoy spending time with you” or “I wish you weren’t my student so we could hang out for real.” I couldn’t let him think either of those things, mostly because they weren’t true. And responding too quickly could definitely give him the wrong impression. 

“I guess that would be alright. Come by around noon.” I responded, choosing my words carefully. Didn’t want to seem too desperate for the distraction, especially since this particular distraction was so much more welcome than I ever wanted to admit to anyone, myself included. 

“Sure thing, I’ll see you then Professor.” A wide grin stretched across his face, though for some reason it still seemed duller than before. The brat definitely had something heavy weighing on his mind, and some part of me wanted to know what I could do to fix it. 

###### 

“Is that a peanut butter and banana sandwich, and a chocolate pudding cup, Professor?” He asked in a mocking tone, one eyebrow raised. 

“Is that a problem?” 

“No, not at all. Just a bit surprising.” I clicked my tongue in response, biting into the sandwich Hanji had so kindly prepared for me this morning. 

We slipped into a silence I was unfamiliar with. Usually, or meetings were consumed almost immediately with talk of long forgotten generals, or the messy politics of a by-gone era. 

Today, it was much slower to start. He’d barely said a word since taking his seat across the desk from me, his eyes mostly remaining fixated on the sub in his lap. 

“Everything alright, Jaeger?” I asked before I could stop myself. I regretted it before the words even left my mouth. He probably didn’t want me of all people, his professor, snooping into his personal problems. I know I wouldn’t. 

He raised his eyes away from his sub to meet mine, his face drawn up in a mask of confusion. Shit, I shouldn’t have said anything; he would probably hate me for being nosy. 

“Mostly.” He responded, his tone more questioning than angry. “Why do you ask?” 

“You look like shit, no offense.” I muttered, kicking myself for even opening this Pandora’s Box to begin with. 

“I look like shit?” He raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth pulling his lips into a frown. “Have you even looked in a mirror lately?” He asked, shitty, bold brat that I’d come to know him to be. 

“Excuse me?” I shot him a glare, my irritation steadily growing. 

“I said you look like shit too, Professor” There it was again, that hint of sarcasm when he called me ‘Professor’. Stupid, shitty, cocky, bastard. Where did he get off? 

“Watch yourself, Jaeger.” I seethed. 

“What?” He ripped off a piece of his sub, trying his best to look innocent. “You do” he mumbled through the food in his mouth. 

“You disrespectful little shit. I’m your professor, for shit’s sake.” He was pissing me off, now. Just what was he trying to do? Make me angry? If so, he was doing a damn good job. 

“Oh please” Eren muttered with a roll of his eyes, “like that matters.” 

“What the shit are you trying to say, Jaeger?” I glowered, giving him my harshest death glare. He wasn’t effected at all, not even a little twitch of fear. Was I getting soft? Or was this kid so much of an idiot that he didn’t have any instinct for self-preservation? 

“I know you’re my professor and all, but honestly man, when we’re one on one, you kind of treat me more like a friend than a student.” Fuck. 

“I do fucking not.” I spat back, I had to cover my tracks. Shit, I knew I let this get to far. 

“You kind of do, and it’s fine. I actually appreciate it. It’s not like I expect any preferential treatment from you in class, either. But don’t try to deny it, because it’s definitely true.” My head was swimming. Was it true? Did I treat him less like a student, and more like a friend? 

I mean, we got into some good debates, and I definitely found talking with him easy. There were more than a few times where we ended up joking around more than we probably should have, and our conversations usually devolved into talking about ourselves, rather than anything history related. I probably knew more about the brat now than I knew about anyone else aside from my friends; and I’d probably told him more about myself than I'd told anyone else, save for maybe Petra. 

Okay, maybe he had a point. But there was no way I was admitting that. 

I should have outright denied it; I should have defended myself against his accusations. I was his professor, and he was my student. Becoming too chummy was a conflict of interest that would surely be frowned upon by the administration, even if he said he didn’t expect preferential treatment and I was certainly not going to give it. 

I looked up at him from my sandwich. He looked relaxed, and confident. His eyes were soft, and the corners of his lips upturned into a small smile. He looked so much better than he had in class, he even looked better than when he walked into my office for lunch. 

He didn’t look dejected, or distracted. He looked like he was in a good mood. 

“It’s not like I’m going to start calling you Levi or anything.” I stared at him as my name rolled off his tongue like it was nothing. I’d never heard him say it, he’d never called my anything other than professor. It was strange, the sound it made as it passed his lips. I’d never paid much attention to the way my name sounded, but coming from his mouth it was almost melodic, and suddenly, I couldn’t catch my breath. “I just like the dynamic we have. Our talks are great, and I wouldn’t want anything to change them. Seriously, they distract me from all the shit that’s bad in my life. I meant it as a good thing.” 

“Right.” I managed, still trying to remember how to breathe properly. It only took a moment, but by the time I found it my mind was elsewhere. I couldn’t really remember what we had been talking about, or what the brat was now rambling about. Something about office hours? 

“It’s fine, brat.” I cut in, “Don’t worry about it.” 

“Huh?” He seemed confused, but I didn’t have an explanation for him. I hadn’t heard a word he said after my name came tumbling from his lips. 

“You’re not upset with me, right?” I met his sea-green eyes and tried to remember what the hell I was supposed to be upset about. 

Oh right, me not treating him like a student. That’s what we were currently talking about. Right. 

“I’m not.” I promised, taking the last bite of my sandwich. 

“You sure? You look like you’re about to murder someone. Probably me.” I blinked up at him, trying to draw my default passive face back to me. My success was marginal. 

“I’m not. It’s fine.” I waved him off before turning my attention to the pudding cup Hanji had so kindly provided for dessert. She was such a strange woman. What self-respecting thirty-year-old packs a pudding cup for lunch? 

“I really did mean it as a good thing.” I heard him mumble 

“I got it brat, I said it was fine, didn’t I?” I grumbled, tearing at the cup’s plastic lid. 

“It’s just, it doesn’t look like it.” He just didn’t know when to stop, did he? Shitty, suicidal brat. 

“I don’t particularly like being told I’m giving a student preferential treatment, but it’s fine. Nothing I can do about it.” I glared at him as I dunked my spoon into the cup. 

“Sorry.” Was his meek reply. 

“Don’t be.” I mumbled, refusing to meet his eyes. “It’s my own damn fault.” 

“How do you figure that?” His question was genuine. I was so over this conversation. 

“Just is, brat. Leave it alone.” I knew it would be too much to ask, experience told me it wasn’t likely he’d ‘leave it alone’. He was going to push me until I snapped, I could see it already. 

“We can still meet and talk about history and stuff, right?” If I thought his voice sounded dejected, I almost didn’t dare look up at his face. But something inside me, some stupid, shitty, curious part of me just had to look up. 

Fucking hell. 

He looked like a child who’d been handed a lollipop only to have it snatched away moments later. Crestfallen and morose, his eyebrows were knit together, eyes cast down, frown deep. 

All signs of the good mood he’d just been in washed away and replaced with despair. 

And of course it was my fucking fault. 

God fucking dammit. This wasn't good for my stress levels, I needed a fucking drink. And a strong one at that. 

“Yeah, brat. Office hours are still office hours.” I conceded, knowing I'd never be able to turn him away if he asked for another discussion. I enjoyed them too much myself to ever do that, no matter how badly advised it probably was. He lit up a bit at my answer, hope slowly overcoming the misery. 

“And lunch?” I groaned in frustration, he just had to keep pressing buttons, didn’t he? It wasn't enough that I wasn't going to turn him away from office hours, was it? 

“When I’m not too busy.” I mumbled reluctantly. The look on his face made it almost worth resigning my soul to whatever level of hell was reserved for teachers that gave students preferential treatment. 

Relieved, he smiled at me: warm and gentle. 

I couldn’t help it, I smiled back. 

###### 

The day was finally over and I could escape my own personal hell that was Sina University’s campus. It was only four, leaving me plenty of time to get to the gym, spend a few hours exhausting myself until I could no longer think, and get some things packed up to stay with Hanji and Moblit comfortably for the next few days. 

The gym I joined after moving to Sina was small and situated conveniently half-way between home and campus. Initially I joined because of the boxing classes they offered. I had boxed for fun as a kid, it was one of the few sports that didn’t put me at too extreme of a disadvantage because of my size. I was alright at it, not good enough to compete on a national or even regional level or anything, but I’d always loved the sport. It was raw, and fun as hell. Not to mention it always served as a good, constructive release for my pent up anger. It helped me get through a number of tough times at home: Being bullied for my size, Kenny’s hospitalization and eventual death, even the fights I had with Petra. 

I hadn’t set foot inside the gym since before Thanksgiving though. I hadn’t been able to find the motivation after Petra told me she didn’t want to marry me. It was a crushing blow, one that made it hard to get out of bed for a long time, much less getting my ass to a gym for a work out. 

But now I needed a way to keep my mind free of negative thoughts that didn’t involve slowly eroding my liver. Which is why I found myself standing outside the brick-faced building for the first time in over three months. 

I could spend hours beating the shit out of people here, I had done it before. But it had been a long time, I was out of practice. There would be no hopping into a ring today, I wasn’t even sure they offered a class today; I’d have to find a schedule at some point. Instead I needed to find another way to exhaust myself for today: The punching bag until I couldn’t see straight, maybe? Or I could hop on a treadmill and run until I couldn’t feel my legs anymore. Perhaps I’d do rotations on the weights until I collapsed? 

All perfectly fine options I considered as I leaned into the door of the gym to force it open and stepped through into my bedroom. 

At first I was confused. 

Then terror took home only to be washed away by fury. 

I was standing, soaking wet with a towel wrapped around my waist, in my own fucking bedroom. 

I’d blacked out, again. And if the sweaty clothes on my bedroom floor were any indication, I’d completed a work-out, driven home, and showered in the time I was missing. 

What the actual fuck. 

This shouldn’t still be happening. 

I was medicated now, I stopped drinking. It had been almost forty-eight hours since my last drink: my shakey hands and the dull ache of a migraine that couldn’t be completely quelled by Ibuprofen were proof enough of that. 

Why the fuck was I still blacking out? 

I stormed out of my bedroom, searching for any device that could tell me the time. I had no idea where I’d left my phone, it could be anywhere by now. 

“That was a long shower.” Hanji quipped from the couch, startling me. If she was here, that meant it was late. Shit, how much time had passed this time. 

“What time is it?” I shouted to her from the kitchen, finding my phone on the table. 

“What are you talking about?” She asked, standing to face me. 

I didn’t wait for her to give me the answer I wanted and clicked on my phone instead. 

8:34. 

Shit. 

Shit, shit, shit. 

“Fuck.” 

“What?” 

“Four eyes, what the fuck have I been doing since I came home?” 

“What do you mean?” Her eyes narrowed in confusion. “You walked in, dropped your stuff, told me you were taking a shower, and then did? Am I missing something.” 

“I’m missing the past four hours.” 

“Fuck.” 

“Yeah, fuck.” 

“Was I acting normally?” I asked, hoping desperately she had picked up on something that could help solve this pain in the ass of a mystery illness. 

“I don’t know, I guess so. Dammit. I wanted to study you so bad.” Of course she would be more pissed at the missed opportunity to turn me into a lab rat than the fact that I just blacked out for four fucking hours. Typical Hanji. 

“Focus, Glasses. I blacked out again, dammit.” My anger was spreading to encompass her now. 

“I mean, maybe you were quieter than normal? I don’t know, you’re always pretty distant. I didn’t notice anything particularly off, okay? We talked for like two seconds before you went into the bathroom.” She tried. 

“Shit. It’s still happening. Why the fuck is this still happening?” I tried my best not to shout, but I could barely contain my rage. 

“You aren’t still drinking right?” 

“What? Fuck no. I asked you to throw out all my liquor, didn’t I?” How could she even think that? I mean, it was hard. I had a number urges today to just go out and buy a bottle of rum and chug it, but I was serious about quitting. I wasn’t going to fuck that up so soon. I could handle a couple of urges to drink for now. 

“Sorry." She threw her hands up in submission, "Just checking. It’s not the alcohol, then?” 

“Guess not.” 

“And the pills?” 

“Started them this morning.” 

“Maybe it takes a while for them to start working.” 

“Maybe.” I responded through a clenched jaw. This was just fucking unbelievable. 

“Shit, Levi.” 

“I know.” We stood there in silence for a brief moment, both trying to come up with something to say. I was at a loss; we didn’t even know what was causing this. The doctors couldn’t find anything wrong with me, I didn’t feel like I was losing my mind, the alcohol should have been completely out of my system hours ago. What the fuck? 

Four hours. 

I blacked out for a full four hours. Last time I was missing two, the time before that was what, an hour? Before that, a thirty minute walk to class? One a day, every day this week. And the time was doubling with each blackout. 

Then tomorrow… 

Fuck. 

If it kept up, at this pace I’d lose eight hours. And in two more days, I’d start skipping more than a full twenty-four hours. 

Shit. Was I going to start losing whole days? How long was this going to keep going on? Was this ever going to end? What was going to happen to me? Would I just black out one day, and never come back? 

“Cancel your classes tomorrow. I’ll take you to the lab and take a look at your brain myself. I don’t trust those doctors in the ER. They don’t know what they’re talking about. They must have missed something.” She sounded as desperate as I felt. 

“Okay.” Was the only response I could come up with. What other option did I have? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I hate to leave you with a cliffhanger here. I really do. I'll try to get chapter 10 out before I hit the homestretch for finals. I really don't like the idea of leaving you hanging for over a month. Sorry guys, I really am. I'm honestly pissed this is coinciding with finals. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it! (and remember, feedback is my sustenance!)  
> Much love,  
> RG


	10. The Professor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't watch the clock; do what it does. Keep going.  
>  _(Sam Levenson)_  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Mi tumblr](http://rglass.tumblr.com/)
> 
> If this chapter was only the last 1/2, it would have been up days ago. But, because of reasons (mostly writers block and finals), I'm getting it up now. I know I said I wouldn't likely update before the 20th of May, but hey. I found time.
> 
> I should have spent the time I spent writing this studying. Honestly, this was not the best use of my time. But I have a week between finals #3 and #4, so I couldn't resist. I'm still a bit unsure about how this one turned out. I've struggled with this chapter for a while, and I've rewritten it several times in the past months. So please, let me know what you think!
> 
> So, here it is. Number 10. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy!

In the end, I could only cancel my first class. I couldn’t justify to the department why I would be on campus all day and not step foot in a classroom. 

They just about threw a hissy fit when I said I wanted to cancel any classes at all this early in the semester. Hanji assured me we could be done before my second class started at one, so there was nothing to worry about, but I couldn’t have cared less. 

I had bigger things to worry about than pissing off the department heads in their stuffy offices by missing one Friday’s worth of classes a week and a half into the semester. Like the fact that if I didn’t stop blacking out soon, I wouldn’t likely be in any state to teach anyways. 

It was all I could think about as I lay in Hanji’s spare bedroom the night before, trying to sleep. It was the worst three hours of sleep I’d gotten in my life, and it wasn't like I normally got good nights of sleep to begin with. The revelation that the missing time was doubling every day was both terrifying, and irritating, more so that I would be missing a quarter of the day before it was over. 

What if I blacked out while I was teaching, or wandered into a road or something? What if Eren wanted to come to office hours again? I could black out in the middle of our conversation and say something stupid, like how much his dumb face sitting in my front row meant to me. I'd have to turn him away. Would I even be able to turn him away? What if he made that face again – the one where it looked like his heart was breaking in his chest? Did I even have the strength to say no to that face? 

After a brief moment of consideration, I decided that if I could go nearly 72 hours without a drink successfully, I could turn the brat away for one day, no matter the face he made. 

I trudged after Hanji from the parking lot towards her lab in the campus’s Neuroimaging Facility, trying not to freeze my ass off in the frigid air. I had only been to Hanji’s lab once before: normally if she wanted my attention she would come find me, so there was hardly a need. It wasn’t a large room: just big enough for three desks and the row of cabinets that lined the far end. The walls were white painted plaster, covered in an assortment of posters about neurology and brain scans she thought were “beautiful”, in her own words. The floors were scuffed linoleum, the same color as the walls, that squeaked as she rolled her large, black, desk chair towards me. 

“Erwin’s the claustrophobic one, right?” She joked with a wink. I only rolled my eyes in response, “You had an scan at the hospital, yeah?” She asked, moving my sleeve so she could take my blood-pressure. 

“Yep.” I tensed my arm under the pressure, wincing a bit. At least her office didn’t smell like a hospital, that made everything a little easier. It also helped I trusted Hanji miles more than I trusted Doctor McDoctorFace. 

“It’s just a big magnet that’ll take some pictures of your brain. Hopefully I’ll see something the doctors missed.” 

“And if you don’t?” I asked as the mechanism around my arm released. 

“Then we’ll go see a specialist or something. We’ll figure it out, Levi.” Her bloodshot eyes met mine, silently reassuring me that we’d find a way to fix me. I nodded my tacit agreement as Moblit handed me a white hospital gown with a shy smile, explaining it was a precaution against metal in the MRI. Metal fucked with the magnet, you see. We were better safe than sorry; I was fucked up enough as it were. 

They left for a few moments to let me change before I was led down the harshly lit, white corridor towards the room that housed the monster machine. 

“It’ll be over before you know it.” Hanji squeezed my shoulder before steering me towards the giant, intimidating magnet. 

I should have been reassured, but something about Hanji foregoing the jokes, or a lighthearted jab at my expenses put me on edge. She was just as scared out of her mind as I was, and it showed. 

Damn it. 

I lay down on the cool surface and Hanji produced an IV tube. 

“I'm going attach the saline IV now. We have to inject you with a dye a bit later so we can see the veins in your cranium clearly, okay?” It wasn’t so much a question as an explanation. 

She knew I would let her do whatever she wanted, I was desperate for answers at this point. 

“Let’s just get this over with.” I looked away as she stuck my arm. 

The pinch was brief, I barely felt it under the weight of my wandering thoughts. 

What if Hanji couldn’t find anything? 

What if no one could figure this out? 

What if this never stopped? 

My heartbeat picked up in my chest, thumping so loud I could hear it. I willed the panic down, trying to focus on something, anything, positive. 

Hanji knew what she was doing. 

She studied brains for a living. 

If anyone could figure this out, it was her. 

###### 

###### 

The reality still hadn’t set in. 

“I’m sorry Levi.” Her voice was quiet and shaking as tears snaked down her cheeks. “We’ll go to a neurologist, the one Erwin recommended is top in his field and right here at Sina General Hospital. He’ll know what’s happening to you. We’ll figure this out, okay. I’m going to call him and set up an appointment right now.” 

I nodded, not really hearing what she was saying. There was only one word still ringing in my ears: 

Nothing. 

She didn’t find anything. 

Not one abnormality, not one misfire, not one curiosity, 

Nothing. 

There was no reason for me to be blacking out, and yet here we were: Counting down the minutes until eight hours disappeared out from under me. 

“I have to get to class.” I muttered, gathering my things and tossing the used, white hospital gown into the trashcan next to her desk. 

“It’ll be okay, Levi.” She called after me, still sobbing. 

I wished I could cry with her. Or scream. Or throw something. Anything. 

But I couldn’t cry. 

I could barely register anything outside that one word: “nothing. 

I felt numb. 

Like my world was collapsing around me, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. 

Slowly, I made my way across campus. 

My mind was blank. It didn’t wander, it didn’t question my very existence. It just was. 

I arrived at the lecture hall with just under five minutes to spare and began my mindless ritual of setting up in a haze as the rest of the students filtered in. 

I watched the door for what felt like an eternity, waiting for the green-eyed brat to make his appearance - hopefully in better shape than yesterday - and light up my classroom with that fucking smile of his. I needed him to distract me: make this less miserable, make me actually want to get up and give an hour long lecture to a bunch of snotty Freshman, make me care about what I was doing standing here at my lectern and forget the fact I could black out at any minute. 

He never showed. 

It affected me more than I thought it would. A crushing blow I never expected. His absence was miles worse than him being here miserable, but present. When had I come to rely on him so much? How had that happened? Was it even possible? I’d known him less than two weeks, and already my entire performance before this fucking lecture hall of bratty assholes whose names I’d never bothered to learn, and whose faces barely even registered as familiar, was entirely dependent on his presence. 

The hour dragged on miserably. 

I wanted nothing more than to walk out, walk into town and lose myself in the largest, cheapest, bottle of whiskey I could get my hands on. 

But somehow, I managed to hold out. 

Maybe it was the fact that no one ever listened to my lecturing anyways, or that I couldn’t have cared less about the class to begin with, but I made it through what could be considered the roughest hour of my life behind Petra turning down my proposal, and finding out Kenny was dying. 

When it finally ended, I offered a silent prayer of thanks for the arrival of the weekend. Now, I could wallow in peace as my sanity slowly slipped away. Come Monday, it was entirely possible my conscious would slip into another black out and never come back. 

###### 

I spent at least an hour sitting silently in my desk chair staring at the wall, accomplishing nothing. The knock on my door came as a shock: I hadn’t been expecting anyone today after canceling office hours, and Eren hadn’t been in class so I figured he wouldn’t show up at my door. 

I ran through the list of potential suspects and my heart dropped into my stomach as memories of Petra’s unannounced visit on Monday flashed through my mind. I froze, eyes glued to the door. Was she coming back to try to convince me to come back to her? Was she going to apologize again, and try to guilt trip me into a second chance? Had she thought it over and decided she wanted to marry me after all? 

I couldn’t handle her seeing her again, especially now that I was trying to give up turning to liquor to cope with my miserable life. 

“Professor?” Relief swept over me as the ocean-eyed brat pushed my office door in. 

Oh thank god, it was just him. Of course it was just him. I was crazy to think Petra would ever come and beg for me back. How ridiculous could I get? 

“Come in, Jaeger.” I waved him in, willing my heartbeat to return to a normal resting pace, the fear of repeating Monday having given me a minor panic attack. 

As he moved to take the seat across from me, my relief dissipated. 

He looked like crap, even more so than he had yesterday and he was refusing to make eye contact. Still, I could see his were bloodshot and wet as he sat with hands clenched in fists at his sides, whole body tense in the opposing leather chair. 

“Sorry I missed class.” His voice sounded as miserable as he looked: small and distant. Fuck. 

“Everything alright with you?” I asked, concern rising. This was bad, - much worse than I thought. I couldn’t even focus on my own problems with him looking like this in front of me. I hated it, I hated that he looked like that. Like he was as miserable as I was, like he had given up and been defeated. I need him to stop looking like that, prayed for the return of the normal, upbeat brat, prayed for something, anything, just God, please make him stop looking like that. 

It was making me feel weird, making my heart ache in my chest, and my face twist in an unpleasant scowl. I hated the way it made me feel seeing him that way. Why did he look like this? Was there anything I could do to fix this? Somebody fucking fix him! 

He sighed heavily before speaking, as if trying to decide how to answer my question, ignorant to the level of discomfort I was dealing with. 

“No.” He settled on, biting harshly into his lower lip. He still hadn’t looked at me once since he came into my office, a fact I noticed with irritation. Why wouldn’t he look at me? Why did that bother me so much? 

I wanted to ask him what was wrong, I wanted to help in some way, whatever way I could. But I was so godawful at this, I didn’t even know where to start, or what I should say to him. I was way out of my comfort zone, had been with him for a while now, and I wasn’t getting any closer to finding my way back to it. 

“I’ve been having some… personal issues. My counselor thinks it would be best if I lightened my load this semester and dropped the classes I don’t need to graduate.” He spoke up, not waiting for me to reply. I felt simultaneously grateful that he seemed capable of carrying the conversation for the two of us, and guilty for making him do it in this kind of state. 

“I see.” I forced a reply, wanting to relieve some of the burden for him and failing miserably. 

“And the only classes I’m in that aren’t required for my major are yours.” 

Oh no. Oh fuck no. Not this, anything but this. 

“I wanted to tell you in person, because you’ve been great to me so far this semester…” he trailed off. I could hear his voice breaking, see the tears forming in the corners of his eyes. 

This couldn’t be happening. The universe couldn’t do this to me, to him. I couldn’t take another blow like this, not with all the shit that was happening in my life. 

Not after Petra, and the blackouts. They couldn’t take away the only student I’d ever have that showed any interest in me and what I taught. The only student to willingly sit front and center in my classroom. The only one to come to my office to chat for hours about history, and wars that weren’t even going to be on the exam at the end of the semester. 

They couldn’t take Eren away from me. 

It was too cruel. 

“I have to withdraw from both of your classes tonight. I’m sorry, Professor Ackerman. I really am.” 

I wanted to scream. 

I wanted to flip my desk over, or punch something with all the strength I had left. 

I wanted to get my hands on a bottle of liquor and drink until I couldn’t feel feelings anymore. 

Why did this keep happening to me? Why? 

“I’m sorry.” He choked out again, obviously trying to hold back tears. He didn’t want this. I didn’t want this. Why, why was this happening? 

He stood to go, still unable to look me in the eyes. 

No, he couldn’t leave. I needed him to tell me why, what was so wrong that he had to withdraw from the only two classes he claimed to actually enjoy this semester. 

The only two classes he had in the major he wished he could still be in. 

The only two classes I taught. 

“Wait, Eren!” I reached out to grab his arm. 

I don’t want him to leave. I didn’t want him to leave it like this, without a proper explanation. Without looking me in the eye once. But more than that, I don’t want him to abandon me. His smiling face in the front row, or sitting across from me in my office, has been the one light spot in this horror of a semester. 

He couldn’t abandon me. He just couldn’t. 

He didn’t stop, and I stood with a jolt, moving around my desk to force him to. 

_Don’t leave. Please, God, don’t leave me._

My fingers wrap around his wrist and I feel like I’ve been punched in my gut. A strong wave of unfamiliar emotions washes over me and I almost drown in them. They force my own emotions down: desperation and fear replaced with grief and anguish. But more than anything, there’s regret; there is so much regret. I can feel it swelling in my gut where it hadn’t been moments before, buckling my legs and forcing me to my knees, pulling Eren down with me. 

Finally, our eyes met: his wide in a panic I’m sure is mirrored in my own, and I’m clinging to his wrist for dear life; as if it was a life preserver in this vast ocean of emotion that has hit me like a tidal wave. My heart is quickening in my chest, so fast that it’s sure to burst from my rib-cage at any moment, my breath can’t seem to catch leaving me gasping, and my body starts to shake. 

The tears that had been welling in his eyes are free now, snaking in translucent lines down his face as he wobbles, a bit unsteady even on his knees, and reaches his free arm out to grip my shoulder. I’m hit with another invisible punch to the gut and I gasp as the second wave rolls over me: this time its confusion and a bit of unease overlaid with a heavy dose of excitement that forces my own disorientation down. 

I’m practically choking on it. This wasn’t what I was feeling. What I was feeling was pure, undiluted, disorienting confusion. Where were all these emotions coming from? These aren’t my emotions. They feel strange, and foreign in a way I can’t put into words. 

“Impossible.” His voice was an unsteady whisper, words almost caught in his throat, “You have to be like, what, 30? This is not possible.” His damp eyes narrow at me and I felt fingers digging into my shoulder. 

What was he talking about? What wasn’t possible? He wasn’t making any sense. 

He must have seen the confusion in my eyes and his hand leaves my shoulder to tug me into his chest, his arms wrapping me up into a suffocating hug. 

“What the hell brat?” I could hear how weak my voice sounded, shaking and soft. 

“Professor Ackerman? Do you know what this is?” I struggled in his hold, pulling away enough to look up at him. 

“What what is?” I questioned, my voice still weak as I tried to regain a sense of professionalism; which is pretty hard to do while kneeling on the floor with a student a decade my junior clinging onto me. 

“Profes- Levi, this- you– you’re my soulmate. This is the Feeling.” I could hear him holding the sobs in. 

Wait. What? 

I looked up at the sad smile spreading across his face and suddenly I’m pissed at his accusation. How dare he make such a cruel joke. 

“That isn’t possible” I found myself echoing his earlier observation, the anger in my voice picking it up a few octaves “I’m well past twenty-five, that – it’s impossible. How the fuck can you– Why the fuck would you– “Something clicks in my head as I glare up at his stupid, smiling face and my heart is in my throat. 

“What the fuck, Eren?” My voice cracks under the weight of foreign emotions that still swirl violently inside me, slowly being overwhelmed by my own swelling frustration. And, somehow, I knew. He was right, how the fuck was he right? How the fuck was this even possible? 

Hesitantly, I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him tighter against me: face burrowing into his chest, his shirt dampened by tears I hadn’t noticed freeing themselves from my eyes until now and it isn’t clear if they’re from happiness or frustration. 

“I waited thirty fucking miserable years for you, brat. What the fuck.” My voice is laughably pathetic, but he doesn’t seem to notice. 

“I’m sorry.” He squeezes me tighter, arms pulling protectively around me “I’m so sorry.” His voice was in the same laughable, pathetic state as mine, but I somehow don’t quite feel like laughing either. “I can’t believe I found you. I can’t believe I made you wait this long for me. I’m so sorry.” 

Suddenly it made sense: why I was drawn to Shiganshina all those years ago, why he felt pulled to Titan College until I graduated, and then was miserable there once I was gone. Even why I was miserable in Sina after leaving. Everything in our lives to this point had been trying to pull us closer together. 

We sat like that, kneeling on the floor, holding each other, for what felt like an eternity. In reality, it was closer to thirty minutes before I started to squirm my way out of his arms. He let me go, keeping one hand gripping my sleeve as if he was still unprepared to let the physical contact end completely. I didn’t mind: if anything, I was glad he maintained the contact. It still didn’t feel quite real to me. 

I had a soulmate. 

One I’d never asked for, or needed. 

But here he was, sitting before me with his crumpled gray hoodie and wild brunette hair. 

“What now?” Was all I could think to ask. I’d never considered the fact that I could have a soulmate, and now that I had one it didn’t mean I knew what I was going to do with him. 

“I’m not sure, it’s not like I’ve ever had a soulmate before either.” He shrugged, fingers gripping tighter into my sleeve. 

Should I be feeling different? Should I feel any different towards him? Wasn’t this whole soulmate thing like an automatic love switch? Why did nothing feel different? 

At least he didn’t look so miserably anymore, the reason he came to my office in the first place apparently put out of his mind. I felt my heart drop again, remembering the events leading up to this shocking revelation. 

He was still leaving my classes after today, soulmate or not. 

I wouldn’t be able to look forward to his bright eyes staring up at me anymore. Could he still come to office hours? And did being my soulmate mean that I’d get to see him more? Could he even still be in my classes if he wanted to? What would the administration think? Had they ever had something like this happen before? We couldn’t be the first student-professor soulmate match to ever exist, could we? Would they even believe we were soulmates? I mean, I was way past twenty-five, it was pretty unbelievable. I didn’t even really believe it myself yet, and I was there for the Feeling, I felt the fucking thing myself. 

“Professor?” His voice cut through my thoughts like a knife, pulling me back to reality. “Stop panicking.” I gulped deep, feeling the motion in my Adam’s apple. How did he know I was panicking? Could he see it on my face? Was I that obvious? 

“It’ll be okay. We’re meant to be together. It’ll be okay.” I nodded slowly, the small smile on his face having its intended calming effect. 

“Go out with me.” He continued, eyes daring and bright. Just like they had been the first time I met him. “Something small, outside of school. Dinner, or something. We can decide what next from there.” My nod of agreement was hesitant. I’d have to deal with the administration, and this was going to be a nightmare. Would this even be okay? Would they be okay with me and a student being soulmates? I mean, generally different rules applied to soulmates, I knew that. But this seemed far from normal - a teacher and student? And two men, at that. Not that it was all that rare or anything. 

And, oh God, my soulmate was a man. It had been so long since I’d been with a man, probably closer to a decade than not by now. And now I was going to be expected to live with one for the rest of my life? Was he going to treat me like the others? Like, because of my height, I was some delicate thing that needed to be handled carefully, or like I was a woman, or worse, a child. Was he going to expect me to bottom for him all the time? Did he expect me to be submissive? Because there was no way in hell that was happening. 

What kind of cruel joke was it for this world to give me a soulmate that was a man, and ten years younger than me at that. 

Oh god, he was still in high school while I was already getting my PhD. He was in grade school when I fucking graduated from university. 

Holy shit. This is insane. There had to be some mistake, this couldn’t be real. I couldn’t be destined to spend the rest of my life with someone who was practically still in diapers when I graduated high school. 

“Professor.” His voice brought me out of my own head again. “Please, stop panicking like that. It fucking hurts.” 

What? 

What the fuck? 

What hurts? 

“What?” 

“Your god damned panicking is giving me a headache.” 

“A headache?” I saw him wince in pain as I felt my own panic rising even higher. 

“Yes. So cut it out.” 

“How the shit am I giving you a headache?” 

"How am I supposed to know?” 

“Then how do you know it’s my fault?” 

“Because it gets worse the more your face twists up.” 

“What?” My panic was fading, replaced rapidly with confusion. 

“I’ve heard it can happen sometimes when the bond is stronger than usual. Always thought it was a myth, but here we are.” He let go of my sleeve to rub his temples roughly, glaring at me. “God dammit, sorry.” His hand shot back out to grab my arm and pull me into his chest, apparently its removal had only made his headache worse. “We’ll figure it out. So please, calm down.” 

Somehow, being wrapped up in his arms made my train of thought crash to a halt, and suddenly I couldn’t remember why I had been panicking in the first place. 

“Finally.” He sighed in relief above me, loosening his hold. “If you’re going to keep doing that, we're going to have some serious problems.” His chuckle sounded as nervous as I felt. 

I glanced up at the clock, unsure how long we'd even been sitting on my floor for, and my eyes widened in realization: 

4:41. 

Less than eight hours left in the day. Meaning I couldn’t lose eight hours before the day was up. 

Did that mean I was in the clear? 

Fuck. That was the second best realization I’d had all day. 

Which gave me a bit of confidence to do this - here went fucking nothing: 

“So, a date?” my voice cracked awkwardly, still a tad unsure about this “You free for dinner tonight, then? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The long awaited scene is finally here!  
> But oh boy, those of you who think that the angst is over are sorely mistaken. Though, there will be plenty of fluff to cut it with so never fear. 
> 
> If you like Soulmate AU's, then check out my two ErenxLevi Soulmate One-Shots: [Stuck (ERERI)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5936296) and [Meaningless Words (RIREN)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6678349). Both have different soulmate trope/mechanisms than each other and The Feeling, and both have sexual content. 
> 
> Hope you liked it!  
> Feedback is my drug, Comments are my lifeline!  
> Much Love,  
> RG


	11. The Wake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You raze the old to raise the new.”  
> (Justina Chen, _North of Beautiful_ )  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mis amores! It's been too long! Over a month since my last update :( Sorry this is coming so late, but finals were horrible, and then I started a new job, and wow it's been a crazy couple of weeks! Updates should get more consistent again from here on in, though :)
> 
> So, as my way to apologize, this chapter is 1/2 in Eren's voice! :) I really liked getting in his head, so I thought I'd provide his opinion of Levi and the situation in his own words. The second half is the standard Levi POV, and the rest of the story will most likely be solely Levi's voice. Point of clarification, the first and second half of this coincide with each other (both taking place over the same hour). 
> 
> Hope you like it :)

Someone pinch me. 

This isn't a dream, is it? 

Levi Ackerman just asked me, Eren Jaeger, on a date? 

Levi _fucking_ Ackerman just asked _me_ , Eren fucking Jaeger, on a fucking _date_? 

“I’m free” I blurted out, not taking any time to think it through. In the back of my head I couldn’t help but remind myself that I was, in fact, not exactly free tonight. I had a ten-page paper due tomorrow that I’d barely started. 

But that could wait. This was way more important. 

I got the feeling that if we waited too long to talk about things, and get this whole ‘my professor is my soulmate’ situation straightened out, he’d start panicking again. And I just got the pounding in my head to go away, I wasn’t looking to bring that back anytime soon. 

Besides, I was just asked out by my idol. There was no way I was turning him down. Not today. Not after I found out we were destined for each other. 

Journalism Ethics 101 be damned. 

“When? Now? Sooner is better than later.” I pushed, trying to hold back my excitement to a reasonable degree, and probably failing. The notion that I could see the professor outside his office and in the real world was beyond tempting. 

He peaked up at the clock, seeming to focus hard on picking a time that would work best. I felt my eyes follow his gaze. Just after five pm, already practically dinner time. 

I could feel the excitement rising within me. It wouldn’t be long until I was on a date with one of the most gorgeous men in academia. 

“Six o’clock? You need to change. I’m not taking you out in that mess.” His voice was still weak as he gestured to my old Titan College sweatshirt and ripped jeans. Still in shock, but recovered enough to bash my wardrobe. 

Well sorry, if I had known I was going to meet my soulmate today I would have dressed more appropriately. I fought back a grin, this was going to be perfect. He was perfect. 

“Ah, yeah, sure. I can run home. I live just a five minute walk up Utgard Street.” He nodded his assent, and I moved to leave as an idea struck me. 

“Wait, hold on.” I rummaged around in my backpack, pulling out a slip of paper and pen. “This is my address, and my phone number. Pick me up there at six, okay? If you have any problems finding it, give me a call.” He nodded again, either too stuck in thought to form words, or the shock of the situation had re-overwhelmed his ability to speak properly. 

“See you at six?” I asked, standing and giving him a once over. He looked stable enough. His panic had subsided, giving me a chance to think a little clearer now that I wasn’t so focused on getting him to calm down. I couldn’t fight back the grin this time, and allowed it to spread across my face unabated. 

“See you at six” he repeated, and I backed out of his office carefully before taking off at top speed down the hall of the history building. 

This was happening. 

I was totally going on a date with the man I’d looked up to ever since Professor Shadis handed me his thesis over two years ago. 

I skirted the corner, and bolted down the stairs, taking two at a time. 

I had no time to waste. 

Just under an hour until my _soulmate_ was going to be picking me up from my apartment and taking me out to dinner. 

Holy shit. 

Holy shit, holy shit. 

My legs vibrated with each step as my feet pounded harshly into the pavement, the sidewalk hard and solid through the thin soles of my sneakers as I tore my way across campus: jumping over barriers, skipping down stairs, and sprinting across courtyards. I could feel each slam of my foot into the unforgiving concrete, tingling sensations shooting up my leg as I ran full speed, propelled by the revelation that I, Eren Jaeger – twenty-year-old journalism major from Shiganshina – had a mother-fucking soulmate. 

Excitement bubbled up in my gut, and I could feel the skin of my cheeks pulling taut as a stupid grin stretched across my face. 

I had a soulmate. And it was Levi Fucking Ackerman. 

Holy shit. 

My heart sored, and I felt like I was flying as I dashed across the front lawn and up the stairs of the stout, gray building that held my apartment. 

I hadn’t even processed anything yet. The only things running through my mind for the past forty-five minutes had been variations of “oh my god”, or “calm Professor Ackerman down at all costs”. 

I had a date with my soulmate. A date with my soulmate that was also my idol. The man who, for years, I wanted nothing less than to be. And now I was going to get to spend the rest of my life with him. 

I slammed my key into the lock, turning the tumblers and jerking the door open in one movement. I let myself fall in with the door, giddy grin still consuming my expression. 

“Armin? Are you home?” I shouted into the apartment, slamming the door behind me and taking off down the hall towards our shared room. “Armin, please tell me you’re here.” I reached the doorframe to our cramped space and gripped it, allowing my momentum to turn me into the room so I could launch myself onto his bed. 

“Holy shit, Eren. What the hell?” He jumped to the side and out of the way of my falling frame as he pulled his headphones off his ears. 

“Armin! Holy shit, dude, holy shit!” I pulled myself up into a seated position, reaching around for something to keep my hands busy before I exploded with excitement. I settled for his pillow, which I clutched to my chest, still bouncing a bit on his mattress. 

“What is it? What the fuck?” he looked confused, but mostly alarmed, and I could barely get the words out. I felt like a teenage girl discovering her crush liked her back. I just wanted to scream incoherently in excitement, anything else was quickly devolving into a string of excited rambling. 

“I found my soulmate, Armin! I found him, and he’s perfect, and holy shit, Armin, I have a soulmate! Can you believe it? Me? I have a soulmate and holy shit, he’s picking me up in less than an hour for dinner, and oh my god you have to meet him too, I’m still kind of freaking out a little.” 

“Wait, roll that back for a second.” Jean poked his head around the corner, drawn in by my shouting, no doubt. “You have a what?” 

“A soulmate!” Armin was awestruck, shocked into silence. 

“Holy shit, you have a soulmate too?” Jean confirmed, smile spreading across his face as he stepped around the door frame and into the bedroom. 

“I do! We’re going to dinner, to talk about things. He was freaking out a bit, but it’s understandable given everything. I mean, if I found out I had a soulmate at his age, I’d be a little panicked too. And I mean, I am still pretty young.” 

“Wait, wait, dude back up. You’re getting ahead of yourself. Start from the beginning. Who even is this guy?” Jean looked excited, but confused. Armin’s eyes were still blown wide with shock. 

“Professor Ackerman.” Armin’s eyes widened further, which didn’t seem possible, and Jean’s jaw dropped to the floor. 

“You can’t be serious.” Armin was the first to respond. 

“What?” My grin faltered a bit, expecting a more enthusiastic response to the revelation that I had someone out there that was designed especially for me, and he was fucking perfect. 

“Your professor, Eren? He has to be way over thirty, there's no way. Are you sure?” 

“Pretty fucking sure. You weren’t there. I felt the Feeling, Arm. His freaking out was giving me a headache, for fuck’s sake. This is real.” This was starting to piss me off. Who was he to question this? 

“I’m just concerned, is all.” 

“What is there to be concerned about?” I could see the hesitancy in Armin’s face. 

“Wait, did you say you could feel his freaking out?” Jean stepped closer, shocked expression still smacked across his face. 

“Yeah. I never thought it was for real, but it kept getting worse as he kept panicking about this whole situation, and when I got him to calm down it suddenly stopped. I don’t know what else it could be.” 

“Eren, they say that only happens when the bond connecting two individuals is super strong. If he’s been living without you all these years, I can only imagine how bad he’s – “ 

“He has me now, Armin. Everything will be fine.” I cut him off, knowing where his thought process was headed. 

If Levi was in his thirties, which he most likely was, he probably had undiagnosed Delayed Soulmate Introduction Syndrome. Which wouldn’t be good. It came with a lot of complications, none of which were anything to laugh at. They taught us all about it in high school, along with all the other important soulmate stuff – like abandonment, and the Feeling. 

They never mentioned being able to feel your partner’s emotions, though. That was more a myth than anything. One of those things that people claimed their mother’s best-friend’s cousin knew a guy whose employee had it. 

“Eren, I’m just worried.” 

“Don’t be, Armin. Can you just be happy for me for, like, even one minute?” I was past irritated now. I hadn’t run all the way home just to be lectured. “I came home, expecting my best friend to be excited with me about the fact that I just found out I have a freaking soulmate, and instead I get a scolding.” 

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just, he’s your professor, Eren. And probably ten years older than you, at least, and if he’s been waiting for you for too long, there could be complications.” 

“Armin, shut up.” I looked up at Jean, who’d taken the opportunity to cut in, his face twisted into a scowl. “Congrats, Eren. Good for you for finally finding the damn bastard. I’m sure you want to freak out. I know I did. So go ahead and gush. Armin will be closing his trap, now.” He gestured to me while taking a seat in Armin’s desk chair to face us, glaring at the blonde across from him – as if daring him to say anything negative about my soulmate. 

I blinked at him for a long moment, not really knowing what to say. I wasn’t used to Jean being the one with a level head, or being this nice. I guess having Marco around tempered him a bit. It was something I needed to thank the other man for. 

“Thanks, Jean.” 

“I was in your position last week; I know what it’s like.” He shot a glare at Armin again before reclining in the chair. 

“Well?” He turned his attention back to me, giving me an expectant look. 

“Oh, right.” I glanced down at my phone, I still had almost forty minutes to spare until Levi would be here. Plenty of time to start from the beginning. 

I talked for what felt like forever - omitting certain things, such as the real reason I was in Professor Ackerman's office today. They still didn't know about my panic attacks, and I preferred to keep it that way. It didn't take long to get through everything, and it helped Armin and Jean were mostly silent through my recounting of the days events. From the way the Feeling manifested, to Professor Ackerman's reaction, to the pounding in my head courtesy of his panicking, to the date he'd asked me on. At least, I thought it was a date. He'd never been explicit about that fact, but what else could it be? We were soulmates. It was only natural.

“Holy shit, guys.” I exhaled, trying to put my argument with Armin out of mind. “I can’t believe I have a date with my soulmate. I can't believe I have a soulmate. I just, it was crazy. You know? And he’s fucking perfect. I mean, it’s pretty much unbelievable.” 

“You’ve been talking about him non-stop since the semester started, we get the idea, man. I feel like I already know the guy myself.” Jean chuckled, smirking. 

“He’s just, everything I ever wanted to be, you know. He’s so freaking smart, and successful, and he gets paid to study what I wanted to get paid studying before I switched majors. And holy shit, have I told you how gorgeous he is?” 

“You have.” Jean nodded. 

“Several times.” Armin added with a roll of his eyes. 

“Well he is. I am so lucky, guys, I still can’t believe it.” I was gushing, and I knew it. But I couldn’t stop myself. 

“But, Eren –“ Jean leg flew out, dealing a swift kick to Armin’s shin to shut him up. “Ow, asshole.” Armin retracted his legs, pulling them up and sitting cross-legged on his bed to avoid Jean’s wrath. 

“Later, Armin.” He practically hissed at the small blonde. 

Never before have I been so thankful for this horsefaced asshole. 

“I still can't believe I get to go on a date with him. I never imagined, I mean, I've been crushing hard but to actually get to go on a date with him? He’s picking me up at six. I don’t even know what to wear, guys. I’ve never really been on a real date before, much less a date with my soulmate. I mean, how much is too much? A suit is probably a bit over the top; you think? Maybe a tie, or something?” 

“Do you even own a tie?” Finally, Armin chimed in with something more positive than his motherly concerns. 

“Yes, I own a tie.” I muttered, standing and wandering over to the closet. “Asshole.” I added, sifting through my clothes to find something appropriate. “You jackasses are going to help, right?” I peeked over my shoulder, nerves finally taking root. 

“If I have to.” Jean huffed, folding his arms over his chest. Armin sighed, but stood, walking to take a spot next to me in front of the wall of clothes. 

“Wear this.” He reached into the back of the closet, retrieving a purple checkered button down and thrusting it into my hands. 

“Purple, Armin? Really?” 

“He’s older, right? You can’t go out with him looking like a kid.” He eyed my current outfit with a grimace. 

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing? It wasn’t like I was looking to impress anyone. And it was a rough day, alright." My voice dropped off, the days events preceding my little discovery with Professor Ackerman slowly flooding back to me. 

Oh, shit. My panic attacks. I told him I was dropping his classes. 

Shit. That probably didn’t help anything. In fact, it probably did more harm than good. Even if part of me was convinced I did little more than annoy him, he did seem to treat me differently than his other students. Great: yet another thing we’d have to add for the agenda tonight. Armin gave my outfit another once over, ignorant to my realization that I'd probably caused my soulmate more harm than good and we'd only known about each other for less than an hour. He rolled his eyes hard, snorting. 

“I’m going to assume that was a rhetorical question. Now, go get changed. You only have twenty-five minutes till he’ll be here and when exactly was the last time you showered, again?” Armin pushed me out the door towards the bathroom, grabbing a pair of khaki chinos and shoving them into my arms alongside the shirt. 

“Fine, fine. I’m going.” I grumbled, smile renewed on my face now that Armin was acting less like a mother hen and more like my best friend again. 

Tonight was undoubtedly going to be one I never forgot. 

“You free for dinner tonight, then?” 

I almost didn’t believe the words came from my own mouth. It had been over five years since I’d asked anyone out, and closer to ten since I’d even considered asking another man on a date. Soulmate or not, this was unfamiliar territory. I wasn’t even sure I remembered how to date anymore. 

“I’m free” He rushed, cutting off my train of thought before I could go about regretting asking, “When? Now? Sooner is better than later.” 

I looked down at his rumpled sweatshirt and dirty jeans – trying not to grimace – before glancing up at the clock to determine how much time would be enough for him to change into something presentable. He was right, sooner was probably better than later. Waiting too long might just give me a panic attack, or lead me to break my promise to myself, and Hanji, not to drink myself into oblivion again. 

An hour should be more than enough, right? 

“Six o’clock? You need to change. I’m not taking you out in that mess.” I could hear the weakness in my voice, still. It was pathetic, but Eren made no comment. 

“Ah, yeah, sure. I can run home. I live just a five minute walk up Utgard Street.” I nodded my assent, still not really believing this was happening, and he moved to leave before stopping suddenly to dig through his backpack. 

“Wait, hold on.” I watched in silence as he pulled out a slip of paper and pen. “This is my address, and my phone number. Pick me up there at six, okay? If you have any problems finding it, give me a call.” Smart brat. Getting his contact info hadn’t even crossed my mind, it was still focused on other things, like: “holy shit, I’m thirty years old and have a soulmate?” 

“See you at six?” he asked, staring at me expectantly. There was a grin stretching across his face now. He was painfully excited. I tried not to sigh, still wondering if this was all a cruel joke. How did a miserable old man like me deserve someone like him? There had to be some sort of mistake. 

“See you at six” I repeated, trying to replicate his enthusiasm and failing. He backed out the door cautiously, but I could hear his feet smacking the linoleum as he ran. 

What was he so excited for? It was just me, and I was nothing to get all worked up over. Could he really be that thrilled at the proposition of a date with me? Or was it just the shock of finding out he had a soulmate? 

As his footsteps grew distant, I leaned back into my desk chair and tried to gather my thoughts. 

Had that just happened? 

Did I really have a soulmate? 

Did I really not blackout again? 

Was I free from whatever plagued me for the past two weeks? 

Was I going to black out any second and miss my date with Eren? 

Was I really about to go on a date with a student? 

How was this even going to work? 

The universe decided we were meant for each other, sure, but I couldn’t see how. Yes, he meant a lot to me as a student, and he was a nice kid, and smart, and good for an hours long chat on The Colonial Wars. But he was everything I wasn’t: young, and bright, and full of life. He had his whole future ahead of him, while I just felt like a washed up old man. I'd just end up dragging him down, I was sure of it. 

How could this ever work out? 

My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I briefly contemplated letting it go to voice mail, but memories of Erwin’s strained voice that night they’d tried for hours to contact me after I blacked out came to the forefront of my mind and I slid the device into my palm. 

“What?” 

“Levi? Where are you? Is everything okay?” 

“Calm down, Four Eyes, what’s wrong?” The panic in her voice was making me nervous. Had I blacked out again? My eyes shot to the clock, confirming that I’d only been sitting in my office alone for ten minutes. 

“I went to the car to drive home and you weren’t there, did you black out again? Is everything okay?” 

“Everything is fine. I haven’t blacked out, yet. But I have some, um, news.” I suppose this could be considered good news, this whole soulmate thing, but I couldn’t bring myself to be too optimistic just yet. There was still much to discuss. 

“One second, I’m almost to your office.” 

“Why?” 

“When you didn’t show up I got worried. I figured you’d holed yourself up in there.” She explained, and now that she mentioned it I could hear the subtle breathlessness in her tone. 

She had been running. 

I should have called her immediately, what the fuck was I thinking? She was probably making herself sick with worry over me, and here I was sitting, wallowing in my own shit, trying to decide if I was being punked or something absurd like that. 

“You are in your office, right?” 

“Of course, Glasses. Where else would I be?” I tried to make it sound like a joke, but it came out more nerve-wracked than anything else. 

“You’re sure everything is alright?” 

“Yes. Now hurry up, I need to tell you something important.” 

It was no more than a few seconds before the door to my office flew open to reveal a wild-eyed, wind-blown Hanji. 

“What is it? What’s so important you had to wait till I was here in person to tell me? You’re sure you didn’t black out again?” 

“Sit down, Hanji.” She really shouldn’t be standing for what I was about to tell her. She eyed me cautiously, but took a seat across from my desk: leaning forward until her elbows rested on her knees, and training her eyes to my face, probably watching for any signs that I wasn’t all conscious. 

I cleared my throat, suddenly nervous under her intense gaze. 

“So, I guess I should just come out with it then.” Beating around the bush wouldn’t do me any good. I could hide this from her, but she would find out eventually and then I’d never hear the end of it. Telling her straight on now was the best course of action, even if it meant I’d spend the next thirty minutes having my ear talked off by this human disaster. 

“I, um, found my soulmate.” 

One blink. 

Two blinks. 

And a huge, curious grin spreads across her face: lips curling back to reveal her teeth, eyebrows quirking up in disbelief. 

“Very funny, Ackerman. Now what is it that’s so important?” 

“That’s it.” 

“You’re way past twenty-five, short-stuff. That’s impossible. If you’re going to joke around like that, at least come up with something believable. Now stop pulling my leg and tell me what it is.” 

“I wish I was pulling your leg, but I’m serious Four-Eyes.” 

Another round of blinks, the smile slipping from her lips as she contemplated the likelihood that I was joking. 

“No. No way. Are you serious??” Her eyes expanded beneath the glass of her lenses. 

“Never been more serious in my life.” 

“You have a soulmate? How? Who? Why am I just hearing about this now?” 

"It just happened. It’s a student.” 

“A student?” She paused, head tipping to the side as she processed. “No. No way, you don’t mean – it’s not that boy is it, the one that read your thesis? Eren, or something?” She was practically bouncing in her chair. 

I rolled my eyes, of course she’d jump to him. There was no other student it could be, really. 

“It doesn’t matter who it is.” 

“Oh my god, it is him. Levi! I can’t believe this. Are you sure? You’re positive this kid is your soulmate?” 

“Pretty sure. Though I hardly believe it myself.” 

“You felt the feeling?” 

“Among other things.” 

“Holy shit, Levi. This is incredible. I don’t think anyone has ever discovered their soulmate so late in life. Do you know what this means?” I shook my head, though I had a distinct idea what someone like Hanji would assume this meant. “You have to let me study you.” And there it was. I knew her too well for our own goods. 

“Absolutely not.” There was no way I was letting her anywhere near the brat before we got things straightened out between us. And even after that, I wasn’t keen on her poking around in my own head, much less his. 

“Oh come on, Shrimp. Just a couple of hours. I want to rescan your brain with him in the room. Maybe holding your hand, or something. You know, now that I'm thinking about it, maybe the doctor wasn’t off base when he brought up DSIS. It could explain your black outs, though you’re kind of old for them to be manifesting now. Are you sure you haven’t had any other symptoms?” 

“None.” I didn’t want to delve too far into this, getting too optimistic about diagnosing my black-outs didn’t seem like the best idea right now. I didn’t want to be crushed when they started up again. 

“If DSIS was the cause of your black-outs, now that you’ve realized who Eren is they should stop. If it happens again, then we’ll have to keep looking for the cause. But Levi, I think this might be it. We might be in the clear!” Her grin consumed her face, now. She was so happy; I couldn’t bring her down with my negativity, though I couldn't join her in this pre-mature celebration. 

“If you say so, Four-Eyes.” 

“We’ll go see the doctor on Monday, I’ve already set up the appointment so there isn't any getting out of it. Eren should probably come with us.” She continued, almost as if not hearing my interjection. “Speaking of Eren, where is your little love-nugget? If it just happened, shouldn’t he be here? Don’t tell me you ran off after you felt it, Levi. If you left that poor kid alone, I’ll never forgive you.” I quirked an eyebrow at her accusation, as if I would be so cruel as to leave my soulmate. 

“What kind of asshole do you take me for, Hanji. I may spew shit, but I’m not heartless.” 

“Then where is he.” 

“I sent him home. I wasn’t taking him out dressed like a brat.” 

“You’re taking him out? On a date? So soon?” 

“We have a lot of things to talk about.” 

“I meant so soon after Petra. It’s been less than a week, Levi.” 

Oh. Right. 

Petra. 

Somehow, I’d forgotten all about our break-up on Monday. She’d been on my mind less and less since it’d happened. The amount of times I found myself stopping and wallowing in self-pity over my five-year long failure of a relationship was reduced to almost none, now, only five days later. The thought of taking out someone so soon after getting out of such a long relationship hadn’t even crossed my mind as odd. 

“I forgot.” 

“You forgot about Petra?” She stared, and I nodded. 

“You think it’s because of Eren?” I shrugged, how the hell could I know that? 

“Please, you have to let me study you, Levi. Erwin and Mike stopped letting me run tests years ago, and your case is much more interesting than those old farts. Please? Pretty please? I’ll buy you a nice steak dinner, or something. Or that new vacuum cleaner you’ve had your eyes on.” 

“Maybe.” I conceded, knowing if I refused outright she’d never let it die. Leaving my commitment ambiguous was much safer. 

“At least ask your little soulmate about it tonight, then?” 

“I don’t think we’ll have much time for that.” It was the truth, but even if it weren't I didn’t want to overburden the brat with unnecessary things like my idiot best-friend’s obsession with prodding about in our skulls. 

I checked the clock, it was almost 5:45 now. 

“I have to pick him up in fifteen minutes.” I noted out loud, hoping Hanji would take the hint. 

“Um, Short-stack. In what?” I peered over at her, wondering what she meant until it hit me. 

“Oh fuck.” Hanji had been driving me around for the past few days. My car was still parked in the garage under my apartment building thirty minutes away. “Glasses, please.” She gave me a devious stare, obviously concocting some hare-brained scheme. 

“Please, what?” Even when trying to sound innocent she sounded calculating. I could practically hear her cackling. 

“Let me borrow your car.” 

“But then how will I get home, sugar plum?” Her eyes twinkled, grin spreading farther up her cheeks. 

“No.” 

“Oh come on, just let me drive you both to dinner. I’ll even wait around to pick you up afterwards.” 

“No.” 

“Pleeease, Shrimp. Just give me this.” 

“Absolutely not. I’ll pay for your cab home.” 

“Rude.” 

“Is that a yes?” 

“Only because I love you so much.” I rolled my eyes, but took the keys from her out-stretched hand. “If anything happens, call me. And I expect to meet him properly soon. You can't hide him from me forever, Shorty.” We stood to leave, the keys clutched so tightly into my palm they’d undoubtedly leave marks. 

“Of course. Whatever.” 

“You're welcome, Short-Stack. And you’d better show that cutie a good time tonight. I doubt you could mess something as serious as a soulmate bond up, but if there was anyone out there that could It’d be you.” 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” I muttered, locking the door behind us. 

“You know what I mean. Just be yourself, and try to stay out of that smart little head of yours" she rapped her knuckles on the top of my skull before I could wave her hand away. "He was already enamored with you before you even knew you were soulmates. You don't have anything to worry about, alright?” 

“Thanks for the advice.” I pulled ahead, trying to get away from her, but she increased her stride, keeping time with me. Damn her and her long legs. What I wouldn’t give for an extra few inches. It would have seriously increased my chances of escape. 

Finally, she broke away from me and headed to the road to call a cab. 

“Good luck Short-Stack.” She called after me as I made my way to the parking lot. I wanted to thank her, but if I stopped moving forward I might never start again. The nerves were eating away at me, and I was already starting to doubt myself. 

I couldn't see a scenario where this didn't turn out horribly. 

I was going to need all the luck I could get my hands on tonight. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it!  
> Feedback is my drug, so feed my addiction and leave some, please :)  
> Much love,  
> RG
> 
> And if you haven't already, check out the [Two Shot](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6869722/chapters/15676360) and [One Shot](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6782446) I've posted since the last chapter of The Feeling!
> 
> [My Tumblr](http://rglass.tumblr.com/)


	12. The New Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The very essence of romance is uncertainty.  
> (Oscar Wilde, _The Importance of Being Ernest_ )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So so sorry this took so long. Ohmygod, this summer has been murderous on my ability to write anything! Also, chapter titles are getting harder to come up with haha I didn't think this far ahead.
> 
> But here it is, chapter 12 and the long awaited date :) Hope you enjoy!

I sat fiddling with the radio in Hanji’s shitty, old station wagon, trying to ignore the buildup of dust on the dashboard. It was disgusting how she kept her car, but I wasn’t in any position to complain. She was lending it to me, after all. And without the immediate threat of conditions either. Though that was probably pity more than anything; I didn’t doubt she’d hold this over my head somewhere down the line. Her excitement must have overridden any desire to corner me into her MRI machine in exchange for the keys for the time being, though that wasn’t likely to last. 

The time on the clock read 5:50 in bright red, block numbers, providing the only point of illumination in the dark car. The sun had set almost an hour ago, and took any remaining warmth with it. Though this particular January day hadn’t been all that cold, the temperature was steadily dropping. I had been sitting here no longer than two minutes, and already I was losing feeling in my fingers. 

I should probably text Eren and tell him to hurry up; the quicker he came downstairs, the quicker I could turn the ignition and restart the heater. However, that would mean coming face to face with him faster, and I wasn’t sure how ready I was for that. 

My nerves had built up over the last hour, and I felt much more comfortable stewing in my own self-doubt than facing Eren at this point. But I couldn’t back out now. If six o’clock came, and I wasn’t waiting for him, I couldn’t be sure what exactly would happen, but I was positive it would be bad. 

If my negative emotions had given him a headache earlier, I could only imagine what abandoning him would do to me. Stop my heart, perhaps? Or maybe drive me insane? Who could tell. It was safer to sit here, feeling incredibly awkward about going on a date with a student, and stew. 

I pulled my scarf higher up around my nose before settling further into the seat. He wouldn’t be much longer, which meant I should probably start thinking of something to say to him once he got here. 

How was I even going to go about this? 

Could this really work out? 

It seemed so farfetched, us working out. He was ten years younger than me, first of all. Still a student, and only two years into legal adulthood; Practically still a kid. We were at different points in our lives: He was still figuring his future out, while mine was decided years ago. What were we even supposed to talk about? 

What kind of fucked up shit was fate playing at here, pairing me with a brat like him. Whatever we'd been doing up till now, no matter how much I did or didn't treat him like a student, we were defined by our roles in the classroom. What the universe was forcing us into now was a different beast altogether. It didn’t matter how good of a mood him sitting in my front row put me in, or how much I enjoyed our talks, or how much I actually liked him. Those things weren’t exactly the basis for a stable relationship. 

Then again, I wasn’t exactly the person to talk about stable relationships. I was, after all, the man who’d casually forgotten the five-year long relationship he’d just exited – quite spectacularly I might add – less than a week ago. 

A rap on the car’s window pulled me out of my head and back to reality. I couldn’t waste time worrying anymore: This was happening, whether I wanted it or not, and I had to deal with it. And I hadn't even mentally prepared. 

Fuck, too late for that now. 

I leaned across the passenger seat, pushing the door open for him. 

My eyes caught the time as I returned to the driver’s side. 5:53. He was early, which could mean any number of things: that he finished getting ready ahead of schedule and came to watch for me; that he could actually, against all odds, be eager to go out with me and rushed; Or that he wanted to get this over as quickly as possible. 

If we were on the same page, it was probably the third option. 

He slid into the passenger seat, and I evaluated the update to his wardrobe: Ratty jeans replaced with crisp khakis, old sweatshirt exchanged for a button down and pea coat. His hair looked freshly washed and combed back in a poor attempt to control it. He actually cleaned up pretty well, I had to admit. He looked older now that he was dressed in something that didn't look like he stole it off a high school freshman. But not by much, he still looked years younger than me. 

“Better?” He must have noticed me staring at his outfit, for he was staring back now with an inquisitive look on his face. 

“It’ll do.” I muttered, turning the key in the ignition and sighing silently in satisfaction at the warm air blowing from the vents. 

“So where are we going?” He was trying to sound casual, though his anticipation was inescapably obvious. Maybe it was the second option after all, even if I found it hard to believe a twenty-year-old college student would be eager to be out with their thirty-year-old, washed out professor. I wasn't even sure if I wanted him to be excited about going out with me. It would probably be easier for me if he wasn't, honestly. It would mean he was less disappointed at the end of things. 

“Didn’t get that far.” Embarrassingly, it struck me that I really hadn’t thought this through much past picking him up. “Have any preferences?” I decided quickly that leaving that decision up to him was more comfortable: it greatly lowered my chances of royally fucking anything up before this miserably awkward night could even start. 

“I don’t get out much; I don’t really know anywhere around here that’s good.” He shrugged, fidgeting in his seat more than usual. I released a sigh in response, he was forcing the decision on me after all. I wracked my brain for a solution, being unfamiliar with the area either outside from campus and the lunch joints in the immediate vicinity I didn’t know anywhere appropriate to take a date, much less a date that was so young. My repertoire of restaurants was much more casual than the situation called for, and I wasn't particularly keen on taking him anywhere I'd taken Petra in the past. That was just asking for added trouble I didn't need right now. 

“Me either.” I admitted, gripping and releasing the steering wheel, trying to release some of my nerves along with it. The options were few and far between: a few chain restaurants that I frequented for lunch, a sleazy dive bar or two, or the sub shop I’d become fond of recently. None of them were particularly appropriate. Plus, if I took him anywhere around here, there was the added threat of someone recognizing us. 

Running into anyone from work wouldn’t go over well, even if we had a relatively good explanation for what I was doing taking a student out for dinner, I didn’t particularly want to deal with that on top of everything else tonight. 

“Um, what do you like to eat?” He asked, I could barely make out the motion of his eyes flicking to my face briefly in the dark of the car. At least I wasn’t alone in my nervousness here. If only I could get my hands on a nice shot or two of whiskey, that would calm me down right quick. Then maybe I could focus on the situation at hand and not on questioning how my life had come to this. 

“I’m not picky.” I settled on as my response, and though it was unhelpful, it wasn’t a lie. So long as the restaurant was hygienic, I would eat pretty much anything. 

“I like Italian.” He offered, and I was reminded of the Italian restaurant across the street from my gym. I’d never been, but word around was that it was decent. It was far enough away from campus to be safe from uncomfortable run-ins with any faculty that could start asking questions, but close enough that the drive wouldn’t be too inconvenient. 

“I think I know a place.” I put the car in gear, pulling away from the sidewalk. It was time to get this night done and over with. 

_La Bella Noche_ was a cliché. 

A horrible, tired cliché. 

The floors were a fake hard-wood linoleum that squeaked beneath my shoes as we made our way to our table, draped in a red-and-white checkered table cloth. The red painted walls were covered in blown-up photographs of pasta and Roman tourist traps. The lighting was dim, in a failed attempt to create some semblance of intimacy. It was almost sad. 

A bored looking hostess handed us our pages long and plastic laminate menus with a smack of her gum and a rehearsed “welcome to La Bella Noche, your server will be with you shortly.” 

The menu itself was its own cliché, purporting an array of choices: from pizza to steak to chicken parmesan, all in Italian, with English descriptions. 

The place was a living, breathing stereotype. But it looked clean, and the large, blue “A” from the health department hanging in the window relieved some of my concerns about what I was getting myself into. 

An exhausted looking waiter, who introduced himself as Alex, stood over us, probably trying not to fall asleep before he could take our drink orders. I had to fight the urge to order a very large, very alcoholic glass of wine with dinner, to take the edge off, but I managed to remember my little black out problem before the request could slip out. 

Even if there was only five and a half hours left in the day, and I was now fairly certain my alcohol intake was not to blame, I wasn’t taking any chances. 

Not tonight, at least. 

Eren, on the other hand, ordered himself the cheapest glass of Merlot on the menu at my insistence. One of us should relax a little tonight, at least. 

“So what’s good here?” he asked after the waiter disappeared into the depths of the kitchen to, hopefully, retrieve our drinks before nodding off. I looked up at him over the absurdly excessive menu. The ride from campus had mostly been in silence, something that didn’t bode well for the rest of the evening I deduced. But I appreciated his attempts at starting a conversation now. It was a familiar routine for us, he was always the one to carry things when our conversation started to lack, even when sitting in my office talking about the wars that I’d made my life’s work. 

“Your guess is as good as mine. I’ve never been here.” I admitted. 

“Then how’d you know about this place?” 

“My gym is around the corner; I’ve heard good things.” Though maybe I needed to reevaluate who I took restaurant advice from, if this is what people considered ‘good’. It looked like any other generic Italian restaurant around town, nothing to write home about for sure. 

“Oh, you go to the gym?” He asked, glancing up from his menu like that was the most interesting thing he’s heard all day. 

“When I find the time.” 

“I used to go, but since my transfer I haven’t really been able to get out.” He replied, perking up. “Do you run? You look like a runner.” 

“I box.” Rather, I used to. But my complicated relationship with the sport wasn’t what he was looking for in my answer. That topic wasn’t exactly first date material. 

“Oh that’s so cool. I always wanted to do kick-boxing growing up, but my sister said it was too dangerous; That knowing me I’d end up in the emergency room with a busted jaw.” He chuckled at the memory, returning his gaze to the oversized menu before him. 

“Clumsy?” 

“Mikasa likes to think so.” He smiled softly, looking back up to meet my eyes before darting his own back down to the menu. 

We settled into an uncomfortable silence, both knowing there were more important things to discuss than our exercise habits, but neither of us wanting to talk about it. 

“So how are your classes?” Being more socially adept, Eren never failed to save us from awkward situations such as these. It wasn’t what we should have been talking about, but at least we weren’t sitting around staring off into space like idiots anymore. 

Besides, if we were stuck together, it might be a good idea to be able to hold a normal conversation with him. 

“Irritating. And yours?” It was a natural, almost automatic, response that slipped out before I could think the implications through; that his classes could possibly be a sore topic at the moment – given that he was struggling enough to withdraw from two of them. 

“They are, um, fine I guess.” Shit this was more awkward than sitting in silence. Why did I have to bring up shit that was so obviously going to cause problems? 

The distinct sound of a morose sigh in the midst of my self-reprimand gave me pause, and I looked over the menu at him once more. He was frowning: eyebrows pulled together, lips turned down so far it was almost comical. 

“I really don’t want to drop your classes.” He finally admitted, the confliction between his desire to stay and the weight of whatever was causing him to drop in the first place evident in his tone. 

“Then don’t.” I knew it obviously was more complicated than that: If it weren’t, he wouldn’t be dropping me in the first place. But the part of me in control of speaking didn’t seem in total concert with the part in control of logic. 

“It isn’t that simple.” His eyebrows furrowed more as he peered up to make eye contact. 

I found myself looking away, back down at the menu, unable to meet his eyes. 

“Oh.” Was all I could think to respond. It was obviously a touchy subject, one I was already hating myself for bringing up. 

“I’m going to see if there is anything else I can do to stay. I’ll figure something out.” He was trying to sound positive, but it was hard to believe anything would change when his voice was weighed with his own doubts. 

“Don’t worry too much about it.” I tried to wave it off, it was best not to pressure him too much, no matter if the thought of him no longer being in my front row was crushing. I’d managed this far; I’d manage after he left. If he was stressed out so much already, I would have to do my part to not make it worse. 

An awkward silence fell over us again, with only the noises of the restaurant to fill the empty space. I tried to focus on the menu, as a kind of excuse to myself as to why our conversation took another nose dive. But I was finding it increasingly difficult to focus on anything other than how badly this was going. 

Wasn’t this supposed to be easy? Like second nature? If we were meant to be together, if the universe was so insistent on thrusting us together like this, then shouldn’t this be going smoother? Why was this so hard? Why couldn’t I say anything right? 

“So what kind of food do you really like?” Once again I was saved from my own thoughts by the brunette across from me that was still staring intently at his menu. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth, obviously feeling the awkwardness of the dinner as well. Not to mention he was still dancing around the elephant in the room, either too afraid to approach it, or waiting for me to take the lead. 

“I’ll eat most of anything.” 

“You have to have a favorite food, everyone does.” 

“I guess I'm an anomaly, then.” I didn’t, food wasn’t high on my list of priorities. So long as it filled me up, and wasn’t prepared in a cesspool, it would do. I didn’t have much by way of preference. 

“Oh.” It was his turn to let us slip into an awkward silence, and I felt a bit relieved that it wasn’t just me that was struggling here. 

“So you like Italian?” It was a ridiculous question, one that he’d answered already in the car. But I wanted to try to keep the dialogue going at least, and I honestly couldn’t come up with anything better. Social interaction is far from my forte. 

“Yeah, I guess.” He shrugged, closing his menu and placing it on the table. “It was my mom’s favorite, she and dad used to, well they would take me to this family owned place down the street every weekend for dinner. I guess it’s nostalgic, a little.” The sad smile on his face told me more than enough. I knew his family life wasn’t pleasant, and he apparently felt comfortable enough to talk about it here with me, but I couldn’t help but start to panic a little. This was going so poorly. If Eren noticed my turning mood, he said nothing. 

“Sounds nice.” 

“Yeah, it was. It’s just me and Mikasa now, and we don’t really have the money to afford going out every weekend for an expensive dinner.” This was way deeper than what was expected for a first date. Weren’t first dates supposed to be light-hearted, weren't you supposed to spend a few hours or so getting to know a person superficially before learning about their dark past? 

“What about you?” 

“Hm?” Distracted by my own thoughts, I missed his transition. 

“What about you, does your family have any traditions like that or anything?” Shit, that was definitely not first date material at all. Fuck. 

“No, not exactly.” 

“Oh.” He seemed disappointed, almost. 

“I don’t really have any family.” I explained a bit further, hoping to maybe lessen his disappointment. It was only after the words left my mouth that I realized that what I said could have the opposite effect. 

“Oh god. I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” Now he was freaking out about bringing up a sore topic of his own and I had to fight back a sardonic chuckle. Could this situation get any worse? Honestly? We hadn’t even ordered our meals, and this date was turning out to be a bust. 

“Don’t worry about it too much. They’ve all been gone for years.” 

“Still, I shouldn’t have brought it up. It can't be something you like to talk about.” He looked like he’d accidentally kicked a puppy, which was only slightly endearing. 

“I have some friends that are closer to family than any blood relative ever was. It’s fine, brat. Don’t worry too much about it.” 

“Oh.” That seemed to sate him for now, and he relaxed a bit, switching gears. "What are they like, then? Your friends?” Looked like he was perking back up at the prospect of a more positive discussion point. 

“Assholes, the lot of them.” I replied plainly, and he cracked a smile. 

“They must be something special, if you consider them family. You don’t strike me as the type to get close to just anyone.” 

“I'm not." I admitted, being able to count those I considered friends on one hand. "We’ve been friends since we were kids. I still can’t comprehend why I let them stick around this long. I should’ve kicked them to the curb years ago.” 

“They sound nice.” 

“They aren’t.” It was meant to be sarcastic, and it crossed my mind that it could be taken wrongly. His chuckle soothed those doubts, though, and I found myself settling a little more. Maybe this date could be salvaged yet. 

“My niece and nephew are much more preferable.” I joked, only half serious “They’re brats, though. You kind of remind me of them some ways.” 

There was a brief pause before his response, something that made me look away. Shit, I’d said something stupid again. 

“I remind you of your kid niece and nephew?” He sounded more confused, than amused. 

“I, well, I didn’t mean it like that.” There wasn’t really an explanation. Dammit, he was young, but not that young. It wasn’t like I thought of him as a kid, or anything. Well, he was, but not like that. Shit. 

“Then, how did you mean it?” Shit. 

“I’m not sure.” I admitted, after careful consideration. Yes, he could be a brat. Yes, he was a kid. But what was I thinking comparing him to me 4 and 6 year-old niece and nephew? Shit, I was stupid. 

The following stretch of silence was longer than the others, Eren apparently not wanting to be the one to break it this time. Being the elder in this situation, I really should have stepped up to the plate to move things along, but I wasn’t exactly sure what to say to him. I should apologize, probably. 

Maybe. 

Probably. 

I should probably apologize for more than just that stupid comment, as well. 

I should probably apologize for this horrific date. 

And for being socially inept. 

For making this awkward. 

For being his soulmate. 

“I’m sure you’re disappointed to be stuck with me.” Was how I chose to slice through the quiet. 

“What?” His head jolted up, green eyes holding onto mine with a perplexed expression. “You think I’m disappointed with you? Why?” he teased the words out, as if they made no sense to him when the meaning should be plain as day. 

“I’m sure someone like you wouldn’t want to be stuck with someone like me.” I pointed out flatly, waiting for him to put one and two together. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He still wasn’t getting it, what an innocent soul; he didn’t even realize what he was being forced into. 

“I’m ten years older than you, Eren. I’m a miserable old man." 

“Are you serious?” His confusion was being overtaken with anger. His green eyes narrowed, locking onto mine and boring into me, as if trying to discern if I could possibly be joking. 

“Of course.” I reached for my water, finding my mouth suddenly very dry. 

“Are you an idiot?” He exclaimed in disbelief, not breaking his intense stare. 

“Excuse me?” I wasn’t sure who was more in disbelief, because this brat did not just ask if I was an idiot. 

“Are you an idiot?” He repeated, proving that my hearing was, in fact, just fine; and that yes, this brat did have the gall to ask me if I was an idiot. “Because I’ve never been more excited about something in my life.” It sounded genuine, but had to be a lie. There was no way I could believe that. “You’re awesome, professor. I feel so lucky that I get to spend the rest of my life with someone like you.” His voice swam with irritation, and I swore the dull ache settling up my spine was caused by his swelling anger. 

“You barely even know me.” I pointed out. 

“That doesn’t matter.” He countered, fighting to keep his voice down. “It’s only been two weeks, and we already have this great connection; we spend hours every day just talking about random shit, and I love those conversations, they’re always the best part of my day. You’re so much smarter than me, and your funny too. And you’re a nice guy, despite what all those rumors say about you. I don’t feel like I got stuck with you, I feel lucky I get to spend my life with someone as amazing as you.” 

Were we still talking about me? Because he couldn’t be talking about me. I wasn’t amazing, or all that smart. I agreed that our conversations always brightened my day, and that we did have some sort of connection. But that was limited to our roles as professor and student, which wasn’t something easily transferred to private life. Just because he liked sitting across my desk from me, talking about history, didn’t mean he’d like spending the rest of his life with me. 

Besides, that wasn’t even the biggest problem here. 

“Eren, I’m ten years older than you.” 

“Who the fuck cares? Because I sure as hell don’t.” His voice rose with his anger, sending small barbs down my spinal column, and attracting the attention of some of the nosier nearby tables. 

“You should.” 

“Is this what you were panicking about earlier? The age gap?” The disbelief in his voice was nearly unbelievable. Why was that so hard to believe? 

“Yes, and also that I’m still your professor.” 

“Why are you so worried about all that? I don’t care about any of it. I like you. As a person. Fuck how old you are, or what you do for a living. Are you trying to say that you don't like me?” 

“That doesn’t have any –“ 

“Please, just answer the question.” He was clearly passed pissed off now, the electric pulses along my spine were only reinforcing the evidence before me. They weren't exactly painful, but they felt strange, and were impossible to ignore. I still couldn’t really understand why he was getting like this. It wasn’t like my apprehension wasn’t unwarranted. Ten years was a long time, and our particular gap spanned some rather formative years. My concerns were totally valid. 

“I don’t dislike you.” I admitted flatly, reigning in any emotion. 

“Bullshit. I’ve seen how you treat me compared to the other students. You like me.” 

“As a student, yes.” 

“As a human being, and don’t you dare try to say otherwise. You haven’t treated me as a student since that first day in your office.” 

“I still don’t understand where –“ 

“You are way too relaxed when we’re talking to think of me as ‘just another student’. You let me come to your office during lunch, and half the time we don’t even talk about anything history related. We spend all of your office hours talking, all of them. You don’t kick me out until well past office hours are up, sometimes you let me stay even later.” His words were flurried as he pointed out every piece of evidence he could remember to drive his point home. “If we’re getting technical, I’ve never even come to office hours to talk about anything remotely related to either class I’m taking with you. You tease me, and call me brat, and let me tease you back. We get into heated debates over minute details from the Colonial Wars that have zero bearing on my actual understanding of your course, and you let me actually argue my points back, and consider them. You don’t treat me like a student. At least, not like any other I’ve seen you interact with.” 

Shit. 

Maybe he had a point after all. 

It took me a moment to gather my thoughts after his little rant, I had a comeback for this somewhere, I swore it. 

“Not treating you like a student, and being your soulmate are two entirely different things, brat.” 

“Do you at least think I’m attractive? If I wasn’t your student, would this be a problem for you, is what I’m trying to say.” His anger was waning slightly, reliving some of the strange pressure on my spine. 

I took another long moment to think my answer through, I could always lie, though I wasn't sure what good that would do in this type of situation. Instead, I actually sat back and thought about things. What if Eren weren't my student? I formed my answer carefully and answered in my signature monotone. 

“If you weren’t my student, there would still be the problem with our ages. But no, I don’t find you unattractive.” 

“Finally! Some fucking progress!” He exclaimed, leaning back into his seat with a jerk, hands flying to run through the chocolate mop atop his head. 

As if taking this as a cue to interrupt our heated discussion, our slothly waiter strode over to take our orders: Gnocchi Milanese for myself, Chicken Parm for the brat. I watched the waiter return to the kitchen, hoping he at least got our orders right, before turning back to the problem before me. The interruption dissipated his anger completely, though his persistence remained. Though, that would likely always remain. 

“Why does my age even bother you so much? I don’t care how old you are; so why do you care how old I am?” 

Oh let me count the ways. 

"I'm boring. I hate going out anywhere. I despise clubs, and most bars." I offered up exhibit number one, hoping it would be enough to prove my point. 

“Clubs are dumb, and bars are expensive. I don’t think you’re boring; I think you’re interesting." It wasn't, and he countered with a face set in determination. 

"I spend most weekends on my couch reading, or babysitting my niece and nephew." I retorted, determined to name all my flaws to show just how unsuited we were if I had to. 

"I don't know what you think I do on the weekends, but I like reading, and I like kids. So how you spend your weekends doesn’t really matter." 

"I hate people, I only have two people I see regularly, and only when they force themselves into my apartment, or forcibly drag me out of it. 

"You don't need to be popular for me to like you. And now you'll have three people." He pointed out with a smirk. 

I bit back a frustrated groan, realizing I was running out of reasons. 

"I’m an asshole." 

"Oh please, I’m just as much of an asshole as you are, don't go acting like you're special." 

“You’re practically still a kid, you’re still a student, and haven’t experienced much of the world yet. My future is already decided, while you’re still figuring out yours.” It was my hail Mary, I was all out of reasons after this. If his counter was convincing, I wasn't sure what I'd have left. 

“Okay, excuse you." His anger flared briefly again at my allegation, "I’ve been paying my own bills since I was a teenager, thank you. I was more of an adult at fifteen than you likely were at twenty. So please, don’t.” He narrowed his eyes, and I tried not to roll mine. A brief read on the situation told me that wouldn’t go over well. "And your life is no more set in stone than mine is. The only thing that's for sure is now, you’re going to be a part of mine and I’ll be a part of yours.” He finished with a huff. “Have I addressed all your concerns properly? Or should we keep going?” 

Fuck. He’d covered all the bases. But even without being able to produce a logical reason against it, I still had trouble seeing how this could all work out. He seemed adamant that it would. That my age really didn’t bother him, even if it should. 

“You’re not that old, either. It’s not like you’re in your forties, or anything.” He rolled his eyes, before stopping himself, suddenly realizing he had no real idea how old I was. “You aren’t right?” 

“Of course not, brat.” I bit, slightly offended he could conceive of me being that old. “How old do I even look to you?” 

His eyes narrowed in focus as he gave me a once over, and then another, trying to settle on a number. 

“Going off looks? No older than late twenties. Like, 27 or 28 max. But since you said you were ten years older than me, I’d say early thirties.” 

I grunted in response, taking a large swig of my water. 

“Was I right?” 

“Close enough.” 

“Come on, how old are you?” I had him curious now, and knowing what I already knew about him he wasn’t likely to relent. 

“I turned thirty last month.” 

“See, not even that old.” He chuckled, eyes sparkling. “I’ve always been into older guys anyways. Maturity is sexy.” He winked at me, and I almost choked on my water. 

“Jesus fuck, brat.” I cursed at him, wiping up the spillage on the table in front of me. 

“Sorry, professor.” He laughed, obviously proud of himself for flustering me. 

“Please, don’t call me that in public.” I snapped back at him, irritated. We were finally getting somewhere close to our normal: where teasing and bickering was common. He had relaxed enough to make a joke, which was a godsend, even if it was at my expense. Some of the awkwardness disappeared with his laughter, and I found myself relaxing. 

“Fine, Levi it is.” He settled back into his chair, a physical manifestation of his dissipating discomfort. “God, it’s so weird” he complained, raking his hands over his face. It was weird, for him, and for me hearing my first name on his lips, it was still distracting in ways I never thought possible. But I would have to get used to it. There was no way he was calling me 'professor' when we were somewhere people could overhear. Our age difference was enough, I didn't need anyone questioning our relationship to each other, or my morality, too. 

I still wasn’t sure about any of this. There were still too many things that could go wrong. Too many variables, and uncertainties. He could still change his mind, and decide he’d evaluated wrong: that I was indeed too old for him, or too boring, or too much of an asshole. 

But I decided I had to believe: 

I had to believe that there was a reason the universe had tied us together. 

That this wasn’t just a cruel mistake. 

That Eren could actually mean it when he said he was excited that I was his soulmate. 

That this could actually, impossibly, work out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy hell this was hard to write. I've never been on a first date before. Well, not like this anyways; not in the traditional awkward first date way. So I had no personal experience to draw on to write this. And Levi is just such an awko-taco, which is hard to write for me as well. Makes you wonder how he ever got with Petra in the first place, doesn't it (It was 100% her leading, in case you really wanted to know.)
> 
> Well, hope you enjoyed it!  
> Drop a line and say hey sometime! I love comments :)  
> Much Love,  
> RG
> 
> PS: My [Tumblr](rglass.tumblr.com)


	13. The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doubt thou the stars are fire, Doubt that the sun doth move. Doubt truth to be a liar, But never doubt I love.  
> (William Shakespeare, _Hamlet_ )  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! I actually got an update up in less than a month! Okay, my final-ish plot alterations have been made. I have everything worked out from here until the end and I'm coming out with about 9-10 more chapters, give or take a few. My chapter estimations aren't a hard number, but loosely based off my outline. Sometimes it takes me longer to get through the outline than anticipated, or I get through things much faster than planned. So take that number with a grain of salt.
> 
> Either way, it feels good to be back on top of thing, with an visible destination! Vacations are still going to crush my output this summer though, so I'll do my best to keep to a reasonable update schedule!
> 
> Hope you enjoy :)

The second half of the date went much smoother than the first, but still felt awkward. We got close to how we were in my office, with my large desk acting as a barrier between us. But here, with only the small, intimate table separating us it felt strange. It was going to take some getting used to, but it wasn’t as awful as I had been anticipating. I wasn’t comfortable by any means, but that didn’t mean I hated it.  


For the remainder of the night we talked about nonsense, ate our food, and when the check came, I insisted I pay for his food. Eren put up a brief fight, but there was no way I was letting a broke college student buy his own meal, even if he was the first one to bring up the idea of a date.  


I was the adult here, no matter how Eren felt on the matter.  


After our first argument the subject was not broached again. We just sort of ignored it for the rest of the hour. There was still a lot more to discuss, like the fact I had been blacking out, and there was a doctor’s appointment I had on Monday that he should probably attend, given he was likely, somehow, the reason. But, like I said, first dates aren’t really the time to get into the deeper stuff of life.  


That could wait until tomorrow, at least. Once things had settled.  


It hadn’t been more than four hours since we’d discovered each other by the time I dropped him off outside his building: a run-down establishment that looked like there was no way it was up to code. But if he’d been supporting himself since age fifteen, it wasn’t terribly surprising he lived in such a place.  


“So um, call me? I guess? I don’t really know what to do from here.” He seemed unsure of himself as he twisted in place in the passenger seat, playing with his seatbelt. It was endearing, the way his light blush settled across his cheeks as he averted his eyes. And for the first time that night, I felt like I wasn’t as alone in my doubts  


“It’s not like I do either. But I’ll call you tomorrow, Brat.” His face lit up at that and he was ambling to get out of the passenger seat.  


“We got off to a rough start, but I had fun tonight. Thanks, Levi.” His smile was warm and brimming with excitement as he stood, rocking the door back and forth in his hand. “Night” He finally added. Of all the times tonight to be nervous, our goodbye was a strange one. I could think of a dozen times in the past four hours a reaction like this would have been more appropriate.  


Still, I grunted my agreement and a ‘good night’ of my own, and he closed the door behind him before pivoting and jogging to his front door. As I watched, I wondered once again how a kid like him could end up stuck with me. But if he said it didn’t bother him, I’d have to try to get past that, no matter how hard it would probably be.  


I was less concerned for myself than I was for him. He deserved better, but it looked like he didn’t want that. For whatever reason, he was content with me.

He was a strange brat, but there was no use questioning it. I had a feeling any attempt to breach that subject with him again would just result in more of the same: him becoming angry and yelling attempts to convince me until he’d exhausted me enough to concede. I’d just have to get past it on my own. He seemed solid in his position, even if I was sure he’d eventually change his mind down the line and decide I was right all along. 

After leaving his apartment building, I drove around town for a while trying to clear my head. I wasn’t going back to Hanji’s without at least getting my thoughts straightened out, she’d have more questions than I’d have answers for and going back unprepared would be suicide. 

Somehow during my cruising, I let myself end up at Erwin’s doorstep. Of the three of us, he was the only one with hands-on experience with soulmates. For all her research, Hanji didn’t know what I was going through. She'd no doubt try her hardest to understand: she would drag out her statistics and science, and try to rationalize it, because she cared too much. But that wasn’t what I needed right now. I needed someone who knew first hand what this was like. 

For once, I was willing to go to Erwin for advice. He was the only one around who could help me, even if I was sure this would only go into his bank of things to hold over my head. It would be worth it; Erwin would know what to say. What to do. 

It was a surprise for him when I knocked on their front door. It was nearly ten by the time I found myself in his driveway, and it wasn’t like me to show up anywhere unannounced, much less their home, and at such a late hour. But he let me in, reminding me to be quiet. Mike was still trying to get Isabel in bed, something that was harder than it should have been at her age, but she’s always been headstrong. 

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” He finally asked, motioning for me to have a seat on one of the stools at the island in their kitchen. 

“Have you spoken to Hanji today?” I asked, accepting the mug of tea he’d poured me and taking a long sip. 

“She called earlier, but Moblit forced her off the phone. Why?” 

“I found my soulmate.” It was plain, and dry, and not the way one would expect words to be said. I imagined Eren would probably break the news to his friends while bouncing up and down, an excited smile playing on his lips. 

“Your soulmate?” The disbelief carried through his tone, and I had to admit that it was pretty farfetched. He probably thought I was fucking with him. 

“Yes.” 

“Levi, I don’t think – ” 

“It’s real, Eyebrows.” I cut him off, knowing he was only trying to air his highly reasonable doubts. 

“You’re sure?” His words were careful as he calculated the odds of my pulling his leg. “But you’re much too – ” 

“Old?” 

“Well, yes. You’re five years past the normal terminus for these kinds of things.” 

“I’m aware.” The blonde thought for a moment, before deciding I wasn’t joking. 

“Who is it?” He was always the more rational one of our trio. 

“A student.” 

“Of yours?” There was surprise there, underneath his amusement. I was glad he was getting a kick out of this, at least one of us was. 

“Unfortunately.” 

“I see.” He pondered that fact for a moment, fighting off a smirk. “And how is that working out?” 

“He seems enthusiastic.” I admitted, though that was probably an understatement. “Though I have my doubts.” 

“That sounds like you.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I stared across the counter at him indignantly, sneer pulling my face taut. 

“You have a habit of being overly pessimistic about things. You tend to assume the worst of people.” He explained, as if that made his words softer. 

“I don’t assume the worst in people.” Erwin gave me a look and we let the subject drop. He was probably right about that, after nearly twenty years of friendship he knew me almost better than I knew myself. 

“So what was your feeling?” He asked, changing the topic seamlessly: as if we had been discussing this the whole time. 

“A wave of emotion that wasn’t my own - his, I assume. It was strange.” 

“Interesting. You know, they say your individual feeling is supposed to be a metaphor for the future relationship.” He leaned into the counter across from me, smirk running wild. 

“Who says that? They sound like shitheads.” My face scrunched up in distaste, I’d never been fond of such superstitious bullshit. 

“It’s all over the internet these days. There are a number forums and blogs dedicated to reading your Feeling like palms, or horoscopes. Electrocution is supposed to mean your relationship will never be dull, which I suppose was accurate enough. I can only imagine what they’d say yours means.” His eyes twinkled with amusement and I groaned in frustration. 

“Shut it, Eyebrows.” I warned him, taking another sip of my tea. 

“So is he cute?” That stupid smirk of his spread wider as he once again moved the frame of our conversation. This time it was to a much less savory topic, this wasn’t something I intended to discuss with him. I had other topics I’d rather get to aside from how attractive my soulmate was. 

“Ridiculously” I admitted, swirling the contents of the mug slightly. 

“And he’s a good kid. He has to be if he’s meant to put up with you for the rest of your lives.” A normal human might take offense to a statement such as that, but I knew where he was coming from. I’d just spent the better half of a dinner trying to convince my soulmate of that fact. 

“Unfortunately.” I saw my chance to segue into the topic I was really here to discuss and took it. 

“Explain?” I rolled my eyes and took a long sip of my tea before responding, trying to find the best way to frame my next statement. I couldn’t come out and ask for advice directly, that would only earn a chuckle at my expense and the blonde would never let me live it down. 

“Erwin, I have no idea what I’m doing.” I released a heavy sigh along with my confession. A large, blonde eyebrow went up in response. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Shouldn’t I be feeling something more? It doesn’t feel any different.” 

“The connection just forces you together. The falling in love part happens on its own.” He explained slowly, the lack of hesitation indicating he’d thought about this before. Or maybe it came from one of those blogs he’d apparently been browsing lately. 

“How? I feel like I’m fucking this up already.” I complained, staring up at the ceiling. Anywhere but at Erwin's face. God, this was embarrassing. 

“You can’t force it. It just happens.” At least he wasn’t laughing. 

“How can you be so sure?” 

“There is a reason you two were connected, just trust in that and everything will work itself out. These things don’t happen by mistake, Levi.” Ever calm, reassuring Erwin. I was remembering why I’d come to him in the first place. 

“Can you at least tell me what to expect? What am I getting into here?” 

“It’s different for everyone. For me and Mike it happened quickly, for others it can take some time. But in the end, the results are always the same: You wind up with someone that was handpicked by the universe to make you happy. You start off wondering how the universe could possibly know who is best for you, and end up wondering how you ever lived without them. It happens thousands of times every year, and not once is the universe wrong.” 

“What about Abandonment?” I cautioned, knowing barely anything about the subject. I never paid attention when the teachers discussed it in school, and that had been nearly fifteen years ago. Anything I may have learned was long forgotten by now. But I did know what it was, and what it meant. Erwin’s reasoning didn’t sit with my understanding of the phenomenon. 

“People don’t always act in their best interest, Levi. I think we both know how aware of that you are. People can be selfish, and reckless. They do things they know go against their better judgement, things they know will hurt the people they love. The universe can’t account for that.” 

“I thought whatever decided these things was supposed to be all-knowing?” I tried hard not to let my cynicism show, but that was most likely delivered with more bite than intended. 

“That doesn’t account for free-will, does it? The Universe can’t make your life perfect, but it sure as hell can give you the person most capable of making you the happiest.” 

“What if I fuck it up?” 

“The Levi Ackerman I know isn’t one to fuck something this important up.” 

“I fucked up with Petra.” I pointed out, it was a valid enough reasoning. 

“She wasn’t your soulmate. It was doomed from the beginning; you just never knew it.” Something about his excuse irritated me. 

“So that’s it, the woman I spent five years of my life with was bound to be collateral damage from the start?” 

“It’s not like that Levi, and you know it. There was no way for you to know, nothing you could have done. Either of you. All you can do now is accept that it happened and move on, try to forgive yourself and let Eren heal those wounds.” I released a sardonic chuckle at that. Let Eren heal the wounds, that was rich. The hulk was too much of a romantic sap; fatherhood had turned him soft. Into the type of man that knew what his Feeling was supposed to say about his relationship, and said shit like the universe handpicked someone to make me happy. 

“There’s a lot of wounds that need healing.” It was supposed to be sarcastic, but either Erwin missed that – unlikely – or he decided to ignore it – probable. Instead, he pulled out the underlying truth and attacked it like the manipulative bastard I knew him to be. 

“It’s a good thing he sounds up for the task.” It was delivered with a smile and a pat on the shoulder across the island. I flinched away from his touch, suddenly as uneasy as I had been at dinner. 

“He shouldn’t have to be. He’s a kid, Erwin. A twenty-year old kid, who deserves someone less broken than I am.” All sense of sarcasm was forgotten in favor of brutal honesty, one of my more charming traits. 

“You should give him some more credit. Yourself too, while you’re at it. If he says he’s excited for this, you should believe him. And you aren’t as washed up as you seem to think you are. You’re still young yourself, you know.” 

“I’m thirty, Erwin. I’m not young anymore.” 

“Thirty is the new twenty, or so they say.” 

“Which makes twenty the new ten, then? If so, I’ve got more problems than I thought.” 

“Look, Levi. Just be your charming self and I’m sure this kid will be head over heels for you before the week is through.” 

“Fucking likely.” 

“Isn’t this the kid that was smitten with you before you even met?” 

I gave him a questioning look, not even sure how he’d know about that. 

“Hanji had a few minutes before Moblit pried the phone away from her.” Of course. Fucking Hanji. “I don’t think you have much to worry about. Just keep doing what you’re doing. There will be plenty of time for the rest later. Like I said, you’re both still young. You don’t need to be running off to marry in six months like Mike and I did. Just take it at your own pace, and try to trust him a little.” 

My inhale was shaky as I took in his words. If anyone knew anything about this, it was Erwin. He and Mike were happy together, had been for over seven years now. Theirs’s had been a whirlwind romance, one that shocked Hanji and I at the time. Erwin had never been interested in anyone before, and then two months after announcing he’d met his soulmate he’d introduced us to his fiancé, Michael Zacharius. They were married four months later, in a small ceremony surrounded by their immediate families, and a few friends. It was intimate, and sweet. Erwin had just turned twenty-five when they met and I remember his mother crying at their wedding, she was so happy. The only time I’d seen Erwin look happier was the day they brought Farlan home from the agency, and then again the day the paperwork went through so they could bring Isabel home. 

Was it going to be like that for me and Eren? I didn’t believe it was possible for me to be so happy, it had been so long since I’d genuinely felt the emotion I wasn’t sure I was capable of it anymore. When was the last time I’d ever really felt happy, even? I enjoyed my talks with Eren, and they came close. They were enjoyable, but I wasn’t sure that could have qualified as happiness. Even with Petra, after our move to Sina I felt like I was just going through the motions. Even when I asked her to marry me it had mostly been because I had seen how happy Hanji and Moblit, and Erwin and Mike were. I wanted what they had, I wanted to be happy again. I probably thought tying the knot would do the trick. 

The last time I truly felt happy had to have been when I finally got my PHD, while I still lived in Shiganshina. But that was almost three years ago, it couldn’t have been that long ago. That seemed insane, I surely had to have been happy since them. Didn’t I? 

Had I really been miserable every day of those three years? 

“Holy shit.” 

“What?” Erwin seemed to be taken off guard by my random outburst. My train of thought had taken me far from the topic of conversation, and there had been several long minutes of silence intervening. 

“I don’t think I’ve been happy once since we packed up the car and left Shiganshina.” 

“What?” asked again, still not following. 

“Eren, my soulmate, grew up in Shiganshina. He was a history major at Titan after we moved. And I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything remotely resembling happiness once since the day I left.” 

“If you unexpectedly pulled farther from your soulmate, I can see how that would leave you feeling like you were missing a piece of yourself. If something removed you from the situation where you were supposed to meet, it may have been enough.” 

“Like if I turned down an associate professorship at Titan a and followed Petra halfway across the country?” I replied, half dazed. 

“Exactly like if you turned down an associate professorship at Titan to follow Petra halfway across the country.” He replied, eyes wide. 

“Holy shit.” I breathed, trying to grasp the situation fully. 

“You’ve probably been dealing with the effects of DSIS for far longer than you realize, Levi.” 

“Is this one of the symptoms?” I refocused my eyes on him, still off keel. 

“I’m not an expert, Levi. You’ll have to ask the doctors on Monday. But it can come with psychological problems, from my understanding of the condition.” 

Holy shit. 

###### 

The drive home from Erwin’s was long. Luckily our talk had left me with a lot to think about, so the drive was far from boring. 

I couldn't believe I really hadn't been happy once in three years. Not Christmas three years ago, when we were all together in one place for the first time in years. Not at Isabel's second birthday party, a week after we moved to the city. Not at Hanji and Moblit's wedding last summer. And it was probably Eren's fault. Well, my fault. But Eren's too. 

I was way more messed up that I thought. 

I tried to force the negative thoughts from my mind. That was in the past, and I'd be seeing a doctor in forty-eight hours. I had time to worry about that later, when I wasn't alone and driving home with a number of liquor stores ripe for the picking along my route. 

Instead, I let Erwin's words come back to me as I tried my damnedest to focus on them: 

I couldn’t force this. It would happen on its own. Everything would be okay. This wouldn’t have happened without a reason. 

The talk had laid to rest some of my doubts of the situation. 

Maybe I should trust Eren a little more. 

Maybe this could work out. 

Maybe I could actually be happy again. 

It worked out for Mike and Erwin, who went from complete strangers to married in six months, and then to parents within a year. They had moved fast, something I knew I wasn’t ready for. But they were a shining example of how this worked. They were happy, happier than most people I knew. And if I let it, that could be me, too. 

It would be hard to let go, but hadn’t I wanted what Erwin had with Mike? Isn’t that what made my relationship with Petra fall apart? My desire to have a life like theirs pushed me to do stupid things, like ask a woman I knew didn’t ever want to get married to marry me? To suggest to a woman I knew never wanted children, that I wanted a family one day? 

Maybe that would be possible now, no matter how far reaching that conclusion seemed on its face. But did Eren even want a family? Eren was young, by the time he was ready to settle down and have a family I could be pushing forty. It wasn’t until recently that I decided I wanted those things, maybe he wouldn’t want them until he was my age either. 

What if he never wanted a family? 

I knew he had trouble at home, his father wasn’t around and his mother was sick. It was just him and his sister. 

Out of the pot and into the fire, it seemed. 

I tried to switch my brain off altogether, no longer trusting it to wander, but being alone in Hanji’s car was making I hard to keep focused. I tried to keep my mind on the road, at least until I get to Hanji and Moblit’s. She’d probably bombard me the second I walked through the door, but that beat sitting and letting my mind focus on things I shouldn’t be worrying about right now. 

Eren was picked for me. 

I was picked for him. 

This would work. 

It would have to, or we were both fucked. 

Hanji was waiting for me in her driveway when I finally pulled up to their house. She looked like she’d just run a few laps: breathless, hair wilder than normal, and face reddened, likely by the bitter cold that nipped at my skin as I stepped out onto the pavement. 

“How was it?” She asked as I slid the keys into her palm. 

“Not as bad as I thought.” 

“You’re back late, that’s a good sign?” 

“Maybe. I went to Erwin’s after dinner.” 

“Erwin’s?” I nodded my answer, moving past her into the warmth of the house. “Why?” She asked, following me inside. 

“He’s the only person I know with experience with these things. I wanted his opinion on the situation.” 

“And?” 

“He said that I can’t force it, to just sit back and let the universe do its thing.” 

“Good. Listen to him, he knows what he’s talking about.” 

“That’s easier said than done.” I pointed out as I rubbed my frozen hands together for warmth, willing spring to come sooner rather than later. 

“So tell me how it was with your snookums. Was he perfect? Everything you’d ever hoped and more? Did you kiss him?” She pushed, now that the blood was no longer the stuff of a slushies and back to flowing through her veins properly. 

“It was fine.” 

“Come on, Shrimp. You have to give me more to work with here!” She pushed farther into the house, making a bee line for her coffee maker. 

“You really don’t need more caffeine.” I commented blandly, hoping she'd leave the machine be. 

“You aren’t my mother, Shorty. Don’t try to tell me what to do.” She stuck out her tongue as she reached for the coffee grounds in the cabinet. “Stop trying to change the subject.” 

“I told you, it went well - all things considered.” I was really trying to avoid giving her too much ammunition here. 

“Did your heart nearly implode from all the warm feelings he was giving you?” She giggled to herself at the thought of me getting all warm and fuzzy, something that never even happened when I was dating Petra. I did not get warm fuzzy feelings. 

“No.” I rolled my eyes and took a seat in the living room, waiting for her and her shitty coffee. 

"You want any?” She asked over the noises of her banging around behind me. 

“I actually plan to sleep tonight, so I’ll pass.” 

“Your loss.” She sang. 

After a few minutes, she was seated comfortably across from me, cradling her mug of hot liquid that was more cream and sugar than coffee. 

“No more black-outs yet?” She asked, more serious than before 

“Not as far as I can tell.” I shrugged, folding my arms across my chest and trying to look disinterested. I’d worried her so much in the past few weeks, I should probably let her have so peace of mind for once. 

“Good. That’s good. Hopefully the doctor can tell us more. Did you tell your boy toy about our appointment? He really should come with us, if this was DSIS I want them to look at him too. If it’s been delayed three years, he might be having problems as well.” 

That caught my attention. Eren could be having black-outs like me?” 

“He’s not twenty-five yet, is that possible?” I could hear the concern in my own voice, I was really worried about the brat and unable to hide it. 

“Calm down there, lover boy. We can't know anything until he's checked out. We used to think it was impossible for a thirty-year-old to find a soulmate, but here you are. I wouldn’t count anything out. Let’s just go see the doctor, okay?” I nodded, trying hard to not think about Eren suffering the same thing I had. It wasn’t a pleasant thought. 

The last thing I wanted was him to suffer because of me. It was high on my list of things to prevent. No matter our relationship now, even before I knew of our connection I had only wanted him to stay happy, and smiling up at me from his seat in my classrooms. That hadn’t changed. 

“So are you going to tell me how it went? Really?” She wiggled an eyebrow and took a long gulp of her coffee from her beaker shaped mug. It had been my Christmas gift to her three years ago. She cackled for no shorter than two minutes before immediately pouring herself a mug of wine. 

“Nothing. We talked.” 

“What did he say?” She pushed, not willing to let me have my privacy. 

“Really, Four Eyes?” I stared at her blankly. 

“Come on, Shrimp. It’s been so long since I’ve heard good news from you, excuse me for wanting to hear about your first date in months! With your soulmate, no less!” She thrust her arm forward to motion at me, almost sloshing her coffee over the sides of her mug. 

“Fine,” I couldn’t help but feel guilty, she had a point. “He’s twenty, a junior Journalism major, lives with his childhood friend and a roommate. He likes Italian food.” I rattled off facts I’d learned about Eren in our numerous conversations. “He doesn’t care that I’m ten years older than him, apparently. Though I can’t see how.” Hanji jumped at the last fact, effecgively cutting me off. 

“I want to meet him. Now.” She exclaimed, grin spreading across her face "I told you he was one of us, didn't I? Didn't I? I told you Levi." She was bouncing now, and my head was starting to ache. 

“No.” I held firm, massaging my temples slightly. 

“Pleeeeeeeease, Levi” she drew out the first word in a long whine. “I want to see who my shorty is going to spend the rest of his life with. I think I deserve that much.” 

“You’ll meet him Monday.” I pointed out. 

“That isn’t fair.” 

“What, you want me to go pick him up at eleven at night just so he can meet my shit-for-brains friend who can't wait forty-eight hours?” 

“That would be perfect!” She exclaimed, and I really hoped she was only joking. 

“Not happening, shitty Glassses.” 

“Leeeeeevi.” She pushed, “Levi, pretty pleeeeease.” She was leaning forward to set her mug down on the coffee table now. 

“No. Glasses, No.” I pushed further back onto the couch to get away from her, knowing what was coming next. “Moblit! Come get your wife!” I yelled for him, hoping he was still awake somewhere in the house. He was the only one ever remotely effective at controlling her. 

“Levi? Did you say something?” he called back, and I said a short prayer of thanks that he was still conscious. 

But before he could emerge, she was on top of me: reaching over and fumbling to get at my sides. 

“Moblit? Now, would be nice!” I called as Hanji reached her goal. “Moblit!” I shouted as loud as I could manage through my breathy laughs as Hanji tormented me, tickling at my sides until all the air had left my lungs. 

I tried to force her arms away, but her reach was greater than mine. 

Of all things, I just had to be ticklish. It was a shitty weakness, but it was my shitty weakness. And I fucking hated it. 

It was something that only Kenny, Hanji, and Petra ever had the pleasure of using against me in my thirty years on earth. And I would do anything to keep that list from growing. But right now, all I could focus on was the muscles spasming in my sides. 

“Hanji, cut it out.” I managed, pulling my legs up to kick at her. It was getting harder to breathe through the laughter, I couldn’t catch my breath, until finally Moblit emerged from the second floor to pry his cackling wife off of me. 

“No fair,” she whined as he lifted her to throw her over his shoulder. 

“Thanks.” I wheezed as I tried to catch my breath. 

“Sorry.” He apologized, though I wasn’t sure what for. He always took responsibility whenever she did something stupid, like it was his fault for not stopping her shenanigans before she got the chance to start. 

“Don’t apologize to him, Mo. He won’t introduce his new boy toy to me! It’s not fair, I tell you!” Hanji fidgeted in his hold, trying to loose herself. But Moblit held fast. 

“I’m fine.” I waved him off now that my heart rate had finally returned to normal. 

“Why do you always side with Levi?” Hanji continued to sulk from atop her husband’s shoulders. 

“I don’t side with Levi. You know he doesn’t like when you do that.” He reprimanded. “How did it go tonight?” He turned his attention towards me. 

“If I stopped doing everything Levi doesn’t like, I would have to stop breathing.” Hanji pointed out, in full on pout mode now. 

“Stop exaggerating and listen to your better half.” I barked at her, fixing my shirt. “It went fine. Thanks.” Moblit nodded, giving me a warm smile and a pat on the shoulder. 

“We’re happy for you.” 

“I got that.” I nodded at his pouting wife that was now lazily pounding her fist into her husband’s back. 

“See you in the morning.” He hoisted Hanji up, readjusting her on his shoulder, before heading back the way he came. 

“Night.” I called. 

“Don’t think this is over, shorty. This isn’t finished! This is my house, and I won’t let you get away with this! You will introduce me to this boy before tomorrow is over!” Hanji called after me as she let Moblit remove her from the room. 

“Sure, Four Eyes.” I rolled my eyes and watched until the disappeared up the stairs. 

Finally alone, I took a seat on the couch with a huff. My phone ringing in my jacket pocket caught my attention, though, and I fought it from the woolen depths in time to receive the call before I could even check the caller ID. 

“Hello?” 

“Levi? Is everything okay?” Was that the brat? 

“Jaeger?” 

“Yes. Are you okay?” He sounded urgent, like something was wrong. But I couldn't for the life of me figure out what. 

“I’m fine, why?” 

“I don’t know. I felt like a shiver go down my spine, and I was nauseous out of nowhere, and I just got this bad feeling. Are you sure you’re okay?” He blurted out, speaking at a mile a minute. 

“I’m fine.” I reaffirmed. 

“Thank god.” Relief rushed through over the speaker. It was so clear, it could practically feel it 

“So it works from that distance huh?” I commented plainly, amazed he'd been able to feel that I was afraid of Hanji's attack. Even such a mild fear, at such a distance, and he was able to feel that. So far, we'd only experienced it when in close proximity. Interesting, maybe we'd have to test this further. 

“What?” 

“My friend just attacked me for refusing to let her meet you properly.” 

“So was that fear, then?” He sighed, sounding amused now. It was definitely an upgrade from worrying that I was in some sort of danger. 

“Maybe, though I wasn’t that afraid.” 

“You sure about that?” 

“Maybe it’s more sensitive than the others?” I suggested, throwing out a hypothesis that sounded reasonable. “So you called because you were worried I was in danger?” 

“Um, yeah. Sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize.” It was cute the way he rushed to ensure I was okay. Maybe he really did mean all those things he'd said earlier. It was slowly becoming easier to believe him. 

“Oh, sorry.” He answered quickly, and I had to chuckle. 

“Jaeger.” I exclaimed, exasperated. 

“Right.” I smiled to myself, he was embarrassed. And it was incredibly endearing. “So I should let you go then?” He added, either not able to hide his reluctance, or not embarrassed enough to try. My smile widened, and I chuckled again. The brat was practically transparent. He wore his emotions on his sleeve. Even over the phone he was interesting. 

I looked at the time on my phone. 

10:26. 

Late, but after the day I’d just lived I doubted I'd be able to get to sleep anytime soon, even if I tried. 

What could putting it off for a few hours hurt? 

“I didn't say that, now did I?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remind me to post a picture of my timeline after I finish this, because damn is it thorough. I'm pretty proud of it actually haha. Anyways, this chapter was meh for me to write, but necessary for the plot. 
> 
> Hope you liked it!  
> Drop a line, anytime :)  
> Much love,  
> RG


	14. The First Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Time is the longest distance between two places.”  
> (Tennessee Williams, _The Glass Menagerie_ ) 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing went my way these past weeks in terms of writing: Cross-Atlantic trips with family without my laptop, the hectic start of a new semester, finishing my summer jobs and starting my fall position, then forgetting to save this chapter and having to rewrite the last half over again. This past month and a half have been crazy for me, I'm so busy I'm losing my mind! I'm so so sorry I haven't updated in a while! I'm working on getting into a new routine so my update schedule will smooth out with any luck.
> 
> Here's chapter 14, hope you guys enjoy it! Sorry again for the wait!

The cab ride home took 15 minutes.  


Writing a note to Hanji explaining that I was leaving and not the victim of a horrific crime took no more than 90 seconds.  


Sneaking out the front door at seven am on a Saturday, without alerting Hanji – Difficulty Level: 10/10 – took just under five minutes.  


Total time between deciding it was time to return home and arriving at my front door: thirty-five minutes.  


I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been alone in my apartment. Days, probably.  


These past few weeks just the thought of being alone there was enough to send me into a panic. The chance that my mind could wander and drift so easily to all the negative things in my life was crippling: how I hated my job, how I was miserable, the fact I was behind on my book, and that the relationship I invested five long years in was dead in the water. All of it had been looming over me for longer than I cared to admit, much before the threat of the blackouts reared it's ugly head. 

Once, the proposition of being alone with nothing for a distraction would have been enough to send me scrambling for the liquor cabinet. But for some reason, as I gathered my meager belongings into my duffel bag preparing to return, the prospect didn’t seem so daunting anymore.  


And once I'd actually arrived, the negative thoughts, though still present, didn’t immediately threaten to consume me: I didn’t even feel the overwhelming need to scour the space for a forgotten bottle of liquor and use it keep my mind under control.  


No doubt a drink or two would have made things easier still, but I found myself able to control that urge in a way I hadn’t been able to in the past days, or weeks, or even months.  


While I was counting that as a personal win, I knew it was insured by my confidence in Hanji’s ability to rid my living space of the offending substance.  


I finally had to acknowledge my drinking had gotten out of control in the past few weeks. I didn't even know how it happened, it wasn't like a switch flipped overnight and suddenly I felt I needed a glass or two or five to function. It was so gradual I hadn't even noticed what was going on until I was hugging the toilet bowl late for class, or trying to bathe myself in the History Department's bathroom sink. I could hardly believe I actually let it affect my day-to-day life. I’d always been a heavy drinker: I held my alcohol well and retained a fair degree of control over my faculties when I was under its control, but that didn't stop me from overdoing it. Now it was making my only friends worry about me, and causing me to be late to work, and miss sleep, and more importantly, miss showers. I'd already decided to put it on pause, in an effort to stop the blackouts from worsening, but even knowing it wasn't the reason behind my strange affliction, I I was going to have to make this change a little more permanent, lest I fall back down that rabbit hole and do something really stupid, like drive under the influence, or drunk dial Eren.  


By now it had been nearly seventy-two hours since I’d had a drink, and though they definitely hadn't gone away, the urges were already getting easier to control. The pounding in my head had practically disappeared, and my hands had all but stopped shaking, no doubt due to the fact my system was now completely clear of the liquor I’d been using to ground myself for so long. Though I was still irritable, that wasn’t much outside my daily norm. The worst was still to come, it was going to be a long road but I'd kick the habit from sheer force of will if I had to.  


I couldn't deny, though, that the thought of having a college student hanging around all the time was concerning; they are a section of the population that aren’t exactly known for their responsible drinking habits after all. But it was obvious there was little I could do about it. I just hoped Eren was as grounded as he seemed. Despite his high school freshman's wardrobe, he appeared responsible enough - for a twenty-year-old, at least - and I could only pray he’d understand when I explained to him that I was trying to stay away from the stuff for the time being, until I could at least trust myself not to let the drinking get out of control again.  


Yet another reason why he’d be better off with someone his own age, rather than myself, that he’d probably ignore, or embrace whole-heartedly in that annoyingly over-enthusiastic way of his.  


It was irritating how he just wrote off all my faults, determined to prove just how wrong I am to be realistic about this situation. He'd probably just call me a pessimist, or a "negative Nancy", but he's only underestimating how much of a miserable, self-loathing son of a bitch I am. Unfortunately, he’d already proven too stubborn for me to sway with words alone.  


He’d see it eventually.  


And though I was already starting to let myself hope this could work out, deep down I was still preparing myself for the inevitable moment where he realized just how right I was all along that he'd be better off if we weren't soulmates. That the fact I even had a soulmate was incomprehensible.  


I still wasn’t convinced myself that yesterday wasn’t some sort of cruel dream, that I’d go to call him today and his number would be missing from my phone, or he’d laugh in my face for ever thinking someone like him could end up with someone like me. It still seemed too good to be true. I was too old for a soulmate; soulmates were a thing people got when they were young. You weren’t supposed to live for thirty years before finding them; and you certainly weren’t supposed to discover your soulmate was an excitable brat a decade your junior that was more than eager to waste his future on a miserable old man.  


It was all so surreal.  


Part of me wanted to call him immediately to reaffirm what happened yesterday; To prove to myself that I, in fact, did have a soulmate and he really was happy about it. That he was real. This was real. We were real.  


The other part desperately wanted me to ignore it - afraid that I had imagined the whole thing; That Eren wasn’t excited to be with someone like me, that it had all been wishful thinking. That we hadn’t talked for an hour on the phone last night before he passed out, his soft snores echoing over the line.  


I chose to push thoughts of Eren out of my head for now. I would have plenty of time later to worry about him. It was still early on a Saturday: just ten minutes shy of eight am. I doubted he’d appreciate a wakeup call from his professor at this time of day, no matter how much he claimed to like me. If there was one thing I remembered from my time as a student it was how important, and elusive, sleep could be.  


Instead I killed time by unpacking, followed by a deep cleansing my entire apartment; I hadn't been home in a while and while it was in desperate need of a good cleaning, I couldn't shake the feeling it was all a feeble attempt to keep my mind from wandering anywhere unwanted. To keep me from thinking about Eren, and the probability that I had dreamed yesterday up. But even with that looming over me, somehow the task was much easier than it had been in the past months, and before I knew it an hour had passed, and then another.  


With the wash cycles started, and the remnants of the soapy water from my scrubbing almost completely dried on the hardwood, I had run out of things to clean in my small apartment.  


Growing bored, I settled onto the couch and started a staring match with the clock lit up on the oven's display.  


9:56 was too early to call, I decided.  


Anything before 10 am was too early.  


10:01, though.  


Thoughts of Eren had forced their way back to the forefront of my mind over the two hours of dishes, and laundry, and bleached bathroom appliances. It was a mystery how they always managed to consume so much of my brain power. No matter what I was doing, or where I was, or who I was with, I couldn't go more than a few hours without a stray thought about Eren and what he was doing at that moment?; or what he would think about this theory about the fall of Colossus?; or did Eren like science fiction movies?; what about fantasy?; or what was his favorite book?; did he like mystery novels?; would he like that book I finished reading a while back?  


Random thoughts in a disjointed order about Eren's favorite this, or what would Eren think about that. They took over my train of thought and ran it off the track - straight into a wall of Eren related trivia I was suddenly dying to know about. He was a mystery to me: so nauseatingly upbeat, and confident, and bright. He was passionate, and not afraid to let it show. I envied him in a way. I wanted him to teach me how to be more of those things: how to be optimistic, and unabashedly passionate. 

But mostly, I wanted to know if he was truly that happy down to his core, or if it was all a facade. He was clearly deeper than I'd initially given him credit for, he had his own trials and tribulations. I'd seen some of them this past week. I wanted to know what made him like that, what had caused him to go from the bubbly idiot in my front row to the zombie he'd been Thursday. 

I wanted to know more about him. The good, and the bad. 

Shit, I really needed to talk to him.  


I needed to reassure myself that this was actually real.  


I needed to convince myself that I hadn’t dreamed yesterday up.  


That it had really happened: that the blackouts had stopped, that Eren was my soulmate, that we had gone on the most awkward date of my entire life, and spent an hour on the phone afterwards talking about nothing in particular, and it had been the most wonderfully mortifying experience in my thirty years.  


My finger hovered over his contact information as I kept my eyes glued to glowing blue digits on the oven's tiny black screen, waiting for the arbitrarily appropriate time to tick closer.  


9:57.  


What if it _was_ all a dream? 

9:58.  


What if he'd decided I was right after he had the chance to sleep on it? 

9:59.  


What if he laughed at me for thinking he could possibly be my soulmate? 

10:00.  


Or for daring to think we might actually be able to be happy together? 

Each minute was agonizing, and I wondered if time had somehow slowed down, because there was no way each of the passing minutes was just sixty seconds long. My head swam with questions that probably sounded just as neurotic as I felt as I fidgeted in my seat, watching the slow seconds tick by until it was finally the right time to pick up the phone and call the man that was supposed to be my soulmate. Should I have been this nervous? Or was this normal? Was it normal for my heart to be beating as fast as it was? Or for my palms to be so sweaty? Or for my stomach to be in my throat? I'd never felt this nervous over something as simple as a phone call, not with Petra, not even during the phone interview for my job at Sina.  


Finally, the number ticked up once again; 10:01 had come.  


I felt like an idiot, waiting for such an arbitrary time for such an insignificant call.  


But it didn’t feel insignificant: It felt like the most important call of my life, one my entire future would ride on.  


I heaved a huge sigh, hoping my nerves wouldn't translate over the phone, and let my finger fall to hit dial.

###### 

###### 

###### 

“A second date so soon?” Eren grinned his cheekiest grin as he peeled off his puffy black jacket. 

“We have some important things to talk about that we didn’t get to last night.” I informed him, shedding my own wool coat. He quirked an eyebrow at that, bouncing on the balls of his feet. 

It had been an hour and a half since I’d called him and invited him out for lunch and I still felt like an idiot for getting so worked up over something so stupid. 

All of my fears melted away when he croaked out a “morning, Levi” in a voice full of affection under the weight of the sleep I’d obviously just dragged him from. 

Of course yesterday had really happened, and of course Eren was actually my soulmate. I was losing it, but I hadn’t reached the point of auditory and visual hallucination quiet yet. 

“So important it couldn’t have waited till Monday?” He inquired, trying to sound playful through his obvious concern. Even someone as shitty as myself at picking up on social cues could see it. 

“Yes. Now go find us a table somewhere quiet.” I waved him off before turning to the cashier to pay for our meals. He obeyed, disappearing around the corner into the dining room of the small diner I'd chosen. It was a safe distance enough distance from campus to avoid detection, while still being easily accessible for the both of us. 

We’d been so overwhelmed with everything last night I hadn’t gotten to tell him some of the more important aspects of why this was such a poor match: namely my nasty habit of blacking out that, while apparently on hold, was just a symptom of a much larger, much nastier, problem. 

It wasn’t going to be a pleasant lunch, but the sooner we got through with this the better. He needed to know what he was getting into before this thing got off the ground. I wasn’t going to misrepresent what I was to him; it wasn’t fair to either of us. 

I was sick, and he had a right to know. 

With our lunches ordered and paid for I started off into the dining room to find Eren seated, as instructed, in a secluded corner booth as far away as possible from the few customers that occupied tables scattered around the small space. 

I settled into the tackily cushioned bench across from him, fidgeting to get comfortable as I bought time. I needed to find the best way to approach this topic. How were you supposed to tell your soulmate, who you’d known for less than a month, and you’d known existed for less than 48 hours, that you were sick, and you didn’t even know how serious it was? 

“So, what is so important you had to see me immediately? It can’t be that you missed me.” his sarcasm could barely cover his anxiety. It was my own fault, I’m sure he was thinking the worst: That I was going to abandon him, or force him to see reason about how ridiculous this all was. 

Too bad it wasn’t that. Though, what I was about to drop on him wasn’t going to be doing this situation any favors. 

But there was no use in beating around the bush, this was the reason I’d invited him out. And I wasn’t going to add being a coward to the laundry list of things to hate myself for. So with a deep breath, and a clenching of my jaw I mustered the courage to get the words out. 

“I think I have DSIS.” 

His reaction was less spectacular than I would have imagined. There wasn’t any big gasp, or any confusion rising to his face. He just nodded slowly and took a sip of his water. 

I could have said something else, but I had nothing. I needed him to say something about this. Because I sure as hell didn’t know what else to do now. He shouldn’t have been taking this so well. This shit could have lifelong repercussions; one he was going to have to digest if he planned on sticking around. 

“Well?” I pushed, hoping to prompt him into giving me something to work with. 

“Levi, you’re thirty. I kind of expected it.” Eren settled back into the bench with a huff, arms crossing over his chest. 

“Oh.” Of course he’d expect something like that. For me to have made it this long without him without any negative effects would be a miracle. Of course something was going to be wrong with me. 

That didn’t make this conversation any easier. 

“Yeah, so what is it? A nasty rash? Seizures? Shortness of breath?” 

“How do you know so much about this?” I had no clue about anything regarding soulmates, I didn’t even know DSIS existed before my super fun excursion to the hospital. How did this kid know so much about a disease that couldn’t affect him or any of his friends for another five years? 

“Don’t tell me you were one of those kids that slept through health class?” He cracked a smirk, but there was no way his knowledge came from that one semester shit show public schools were required to put on for their asshole students. “So what is it?” He repeated his question, eager to hear just how bad this was. 

“Blackouts is all so far. But I have an appointment with a specialist after class on Monday. I think you should come with me.” That seemed to take him by surprise, and his jaw slackened a little in shock. 

“You want me to come with you to the doctor?” He didn’t seem to believe it, and it was here that I realized just how intimate what I was asking sounded. I was inviting him to be a part of something as serious, and private, as a doctor’s visit. At least I’d bought him dinner first. 

“I just meant that they might want to run some tests, to see how bad it is, and they might need you there. For the tests.” I tried to clarify, but it didn’t do much to abate his shock. 

“I see.” He nodded, gobsmacked look still stuck to his face. I cleared my throat, and not just from the awkwardness of the situation. That wasn’t the only reason I thought he should come along. Yes, it was the reason Hanji provided when she convinced me to ask Eren to be there on Monday, but after some thinking I had come to an additional conclusion. 

“Also, this shit affects you too, so you should be there.” 

“What?” This statement seemed to take him aback more than my previous ones. I cleared my throat again, suddenly feeling like a massive idiot. 

“Well, since you won’t listen to reason, it looks like you’re stuck with me for now. And if I’m going to be an invalid or some shit you should be there to see exactly what the fuck you’re getting yourself into.” I explained further, knowing full well my intentions were much purer than that. 

“Oh. I see.” He cracked a smile, reaching to hide it with his water glass. “Sure, I’ll come Monday. If you’re so set on me being there.” I rolled my eyes, being able to recognize gloating when I saw it. 

“Now that that’s out of the way.” I took another long sip of my water, knowing the hardest part had yet to come. But as painful, and awkward, as this was going to be it needed to happen. After what I went through with Petra, there was no way I was getting any further into whatever this was without the following conversation. “I want to get some things out in the open. I know it’s early, and I know you’re young, but fuck it. I need to know these things. I can’t believe this is going to work out otherwise. Got it?” I sat back into the bench, staring him down over the table. 

He met my gaze with a firm resolve, as if he was prepared for anything I would send his way. And after last night I wanted to believe in him, but there was no way he could prepare himself for the next series of questions I had for him. 

“Okay, shoot.” 

Here went nothing. 

“What’s your opinion on marriage?” My voice wasn’t nearly as confident as I needed it to be right now. Instead of sounding assured and prepared, I sounded pathetic and desperate for some good news. 

I tried to tell myself this conversation was going to have to happen sooner or later, and it was better to get my hopes dashed early. Though twenty-four hours into this thing was probably a little extreme. Surely there would be more appropriate times. But it was too late for that now. 

“Well it’s kind of irrelevant, isn’t it? For soulmates?” If Eren was shocked by my question, he said nothing. He was probably more concerned with laying all my doubts to rest than wondering where this was coming from. 

“Maybe. But that doesn’t answer my question. And don’t just tell me what you think I want to hear.” It was definitely something he’d do, but that wasn’t going to help anything. I needed him to be straight up with me about this. It was important. I wasn’t getting any younger, and if my soulmate didn’t want the same things out of life as me, than I was going to have to get over it before I let myself get all worked up about him. 

“I’ve never been too attached to the idea, but I always figured if I got a soulmate that I’d be more into it.” He shrugged, and I figured his answer was honest enough. He may have exaggerated it some, but there was no reason for him to fabricate an answer whole cloth. But that didn't make his answer sufficient. 

“And?” He had a soulmate now, so his answer was a bit outdated. Maybe it hadn’t been long enough for him to think about? There was still plenty for us to think about that wasn’t whether we’d make this fully legal down the line, so maybe he hadn’t considered it yet? 

He took a moment to think on his answer, hand rising up to scratch the back of his neck as he did so. 

“I’ve got no plans to go anywhere, so I’d be on board for making this thing legal one day.” Not exactly the affirmative answer I’d been hoping for, but more promising than Petra’s opinion on the institution. It’d do, for now. We had a while before the answer would become relevant to real life, and this was enough for me to set aside my anxieties on the topic for now. He was much too young to have a husband, and I’d already decided if this thing worked out like he thought it would I’d wait till he graduated to do anything about it. Which brought up another, more awkward, question. 

“And your opinion on kids?” I tried desperately to sound nonchalant, but it was pretty difficult to do when the questionee was a twenty-year-old college kid with little more on his mind than passing his next semester. 

“Love them.” He answered casually without so much as a second thought as the waiter approached our table. I waited for the awkward moment to pass as he placed our sandwiches in front of us and scurried back to the kitchen. 

“Do you want them?” I clarified firmly once we were alone again, wanting this conversation to have been over ten minutes ago. 

“I’m a bit young to be a dad, don’tcha think?” He cracked a smile, popping a fry into his mouth. 

“I’m 30, Jaeger.” 

“Calm down grandpa,” he joked, pointing a fry at me from across the tabletop “my mom was 33 when she had me. My dad was almost 36. We’ve got some wiggle room. Besides, it’s not like either of us can get pregnant. We’d have to find a surrogate, or adopt. Age is much less of a problem for us.” He popped the second fry between his lips, offering me an eyebrow wiggle for my troubles. I replied with an exaggerated eye roll. 

“I’m not going to be one of those father’s with a fucking cane at his kid’s shitty high school graduation.” I argued, trying to ignore the fact that my soulmate was still practically a child himself. 

“That would be so fucking cute.” He was chuckling now at what I assumed was the mental image of me bent over with a cane. 

“Focus, Jaeger.” 

“Yeah, sure I’d want kids eventually. Duh.” He rolled his eyes, still chuckling as he popped another fry. 

“Okay, good.” I felt a weight lift off my shoulders and reached for my own sandwich, finally feeling like eating for once today. That had gone much better than expected. 

“Only if we name the girl after my mom though.” I paused the approach of my BLT and looked up to meet his eyes. He winked at me, taking a vicious bite of his own turkey club through a smirk. He was playing with me, but it didn’t matter much to me what we named our kids. If this worked out well enough that we were actually prepared to become parents together one day, then he could ask to name our kids after the Hanji and I’d probably agree. 

“Deal.” I mumbled, finally biting into my own sandwich. 

“Kickass.” He exclaimed, looking like he’d just won a fucking medal or something. 

“What are you so happy about?” I asked even though I was fairly certain I already knew the answer. 

“You’re thinking about a future with me. After yesterday I thought it was going to take weeks to get you to accept me as your soulmate.” 

“If I’m stuck with you it’s better to get my hopes crushed earlier, rather than later.” 

“That can’t be the only reason you’re asking all this so soon.” He pressed, and as much as I wished for him to leave the subject alone, I knew he wasn’t going to. It was a pretty big change from how I acted last night, I had to admit. My acceptance of the situation was one thing, but to be asking him all these big, important life questions already? He was right to be confused. “Why is this so important that you’d invite me to lunch just to ask all these things you’d learn eventually anyways?” 

I cleared my throat, trying to decide how much I was willing to fill him in, and how much I was willing to reveal already. 

But if he was going to be stuck with me, he’d learn it all at some point. I was socially constipated, but not so much so that I was willing to hide things from someone meant to spend the rest of their life with me. There wasn’t any reason to pull punches at this point. 

“My last relationship didn’t end well. I started wanting the whole white-picket fence with the dog and the 2.5 kids shit. They didn’t. It ended after I proposed to them anyways.” I reached for my glass, needing to wet my drying throat. 

“Oh.” It came slowly, and thoughtfully, as he tried to figure out an appropriate response. 

“Sorry.” I wasn’t sure what I was apologizing for, but I wasn’t sure what else to say at this point. 

“No, no I get it. It’s got to be hard to realize you want different things after being with someone for a while. I’m too young to really be thinking about those things. The biggest life question I’ve ever had to ask my exes is if they’re ‘out’ to the rest of the world yet.” 

“So you only date men, then?” I changed the subject, no longer wanting to talk about myself or reopen the fresh wound that was my break up with Petra. 

“Aren’t you too?” He raised an eyebrow at that. It wasn’t a bad assumption to make given our situation, but that didn’t mean I was any less offended. 

“No. I’m attracted to men, but I only date women. I haven’t been with a man in almost a decade.” It was meant to be more nonchalant than I'd made it sound. It wasn't the huge deal I had a feeling Eren would make it out to be. 

“Oh. Wow. Shit. This must be weird for you, then. It suddenly makes sense why you were so hesitant before.” He seemed a little crestfallen, and I bit back an exasperated sigh. He shouldn't be so easy to read, of course he’d take it personally. 

“It’s not that. Comparatively it's a smaller concern. I’ve got some hangups that have stopped me from dating men in the past is all.” 

“Hangups?” My attempts to quell any lingering doubts only seemed to provide him with a source of confusion. I knew this lunch was going to involve a lot of tough discussions, but I hadn’t expected to get into this shit so soon. Well, it wasn’t the worst shit from my life we could be talking about at least. 

“Because of my height men tend to treat me like a fucking dainty flower, or a woman, or some shit. Even though I probably could have kicked all their combined asses at once.” 

“Right, you box. You should show me some moves sometime, or something.” He smiled, ignoring the biggest bullet point of what I'd just told hm, which was kind of concerning. 

“Maybe I should.” Flirting with a man Eren’s age was still weird for me, and he seemed to feel it too because he let that comment sit for a while before making an attempt to respond. He seemed to be deliberating something, and when he finally spoke back up it took me by surprise. 

“I won’t treat you like you’re delicate, or a woman.” He now had my full attention, and I quirked an eyebrow. 

“Oh ho?” 

“I mean, I know I’ve got like six inches on you, but you’re so manly and capable, and like a real fucking adult, you know. The whole concept is so strange to me. You’re a man, I plan to treat you like one.” He finished off the rest of his sandwich in one huge bite, and through an overstuffed mouth added an awkward “besides, I um actually prefer to um, be on bottom, actually. So if that was what you were worried about, don’t be”, as his deep blush reached his neck upon finishing. 

“Oh.” I choke out, split between shock and enthusiasm that I tried to hide in a comparatively smaller bite to my BLT “I see.” 

“Yeah.” His blush hadn’t lightened, if anything it had only gotten worse as he swallowed the last remains of his club. 

“That’s… good, I guess?” It didn’t get much more awkward than this. “This is fucking weird. We should not be talking about this on a second date.” 

“Such the gentleman.” He chuckled, “Want a change of subject?” 

“Please.” I replied with a relieved sigh. 

“So." He paused, seeming to run through some ideas in his head before deciding on "General Alberich’s charge in the final battle between the Empire and Bestia? Do you think he was really high on bad shrooms that accidentally got served in his soup, or was he just that incompetent?” It was almost like he had that topic prepared. Which, given who I was talking to was completely within the realm of possibility. He knew just how to hook me already, which was dangerous. But it wasn’t like I minded terribly. At least we shared an interest, and that was more than I could have ever said about Petra. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, my deepest and sincerest apologies, lovelies. Real life is hectic, but I have no plans to give up on my stories.
> 
> Keep up with me on [my Tumblr](http://rglass.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Check out the one shot I posted since last update: [Family is Forever](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7944058). 
> 
> And don't forget to leave feedback :) It's endlessly appreciated  
> Hope you liked it!!  
> Much Love,  
> RG


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